


From Upon the Golden Thrones [VOLUME II]

by myaekingheart



Series: The Temptation Chronicles [3]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Golden Age (Narnia), Multi, Narnia, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaekingheart/pseuds/myaekingheart
Summary: Upon Narnia’s rescue from Jadis’s tyranny, Aslan has crowned the Pevensies the rightful kings and queens of the land. Their infamous reign has ushered in an entirely new era– the Golden Age– however is not without it’s struggles. The young monarchs must learn to rule a country and engage in international affairs all while managing their personal lives from behind closed curtains– everything from insomnia to producing heirs. Ruling a country was never promised to be easy, but was it really meant to be this difficult?*Volume 2 consists of episodes/chapters 13-26.





	1. VOL 2, EP. 13: Yearning

Great claps of thunder shook the whole of Cair Paravel as bolts of lightning illuminated the sky. A knot formed in Peter’s stomach as he struggled down the hallway, muscles tense with desperation. Blood pooled on the marble floors. He couldn’t afford to lose this battle. He couldn’t stand to face defeat. He needed to be strong. He needed to push himself. The great doors of the castle burst open as the High King dove into the darkness, scouring the treeline for any sign of her. Nothing. She was gone, but she couldn’t be gone. There was no way. He needed to find her. Mustering all his strength, he catapulted himself into the woods, clinging to tree trunks for support. The wind whipped wildly at his face, his eyes tearing up and his throat running dry. Not even the inclement weather could stop his search.

Peter stumbled into a clearing, falling face-first into the mud as he gasped for breath. Another crack of lightning occurred overhead. He squinted up at the sky in dread, as if threatening the earth to challenge him with even more obstacles. And then he saw her, the shadowy figure cloaked in red. Unmatched, unfathomable, and unattainable. She stared at him with glowing eyes of white, levitating above the ground. Knotty antlers sprung from the roots of her dark, billowing hair, like that of a stag. Her body was drenched in absolute blackness save for the shimmering stone at her chest. Embedded in a wooden box held near and dear, the strange gem cast a warm glow like that of a sunset in summer. Compared to the gloomy atmosphere, it seemed highly out of place.  
A scream tangled in Peter’s throat, but not one of fear or anger. Rather, it was a scream of pain. A scream of longing. A scream of desperation to retrieve something cherished that had been long since lost. However, his throat refused to produce any sound. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he struggled to pull himself across the ground and toward her. The being just watched with cold, dead eyes, expressionless. One might’ve mistaken her for a statue had her hair and clothes not fluttered in the wind. When he was finally close enough, Peter extended his arm out, straining his muscles, in an attempt to take her hand, to remind her of everything she left behind, to convince her to come back. Before he could even touch her, he was drenched in darkness and the world disappeared from beneath his body, sending him tumbling through the vast abyss of nothingness.  
“Your majesty!” a voice shouted, violently tapping a pointer on the desk. Peter snapped awake, blinking up at the faun standing before him. Professor Arcadian was not amused. “Since you seem so keen on sleeping during our meetings, I suggest you reschedule for a time when you might perhaps actually be awake.”  
“S-Sorry” he mumbled, gathering his papers and fixing his hair. The others shifted uncomfortably.  
“I hate seeing him this way” Lucy whispered to her sister from across the table. Susan nodded.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so distraught before in my entire life” the gentle replied.  
“It’s been two weeks! I would’ve hoped he’d feel better by now” Lucy sighed.  
“We have to remember, Lu, Peter was very much in love with Eilonwy. She left unexpectedly, so Peter is bound to suffer some heartbreak, however long that takes” Susan explained. Glancing back to her brother, she shook her head pitifully. The High King had been reduced to nothingness in the wake of Eilonwy’s departure. A tiny ember of rage burned in the recesses of Susan’s chest. She knew the huntress was selfish but never thought she’d stoop to such inane levels of cruelty. Good riddance, she thought to herself. We’re better off anyways.  
Later that afternoon, Lucy caught a glimpse of Peter upon the balcony staring blankly off into the woods. Her heart ached for him but unlike her brother and sister, she wasn’t about to just stand by and let their eldest brother spiral into insanity. Sucking in a deep breath, she gathered her courage and stepped up beside him. “Afternoon, Peter. Lovely day, isn’t it?” she greeted. Peter simply grunted. Pursing her lips, Lucy crossed her arms in thought before adding, “You know, we’ve all been rather worried about you lately. If you need anyone to talk to, me and Susan and Edmund are always here for you. You know that, right?”  
Truthfully, Peter didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to sit in silence and ignore the world. What he wanted more than anything was for Eilonwy to come back to him, to confess she made a mistake and that she loved him dearly, to accept his proposal and for them to skip off into the sunset together happy as can be, but he knew that was never going to happen. So in the meantime, he just desperately wanted to stop existing for a while. Not die, necessarily, but just stop existing. Press pause on the entire world and crawl into a very dark and very secluded space until he was feeling well enough to face life again, if he ever would.  
Lucy was in no way satisfied with her big brother’s silence. For the past fortnight, it had been nothing but dismissive waves, sleepless nights, and half-eaten meals. She was getting sick of his sulking not because she felt he was being petty and uncooperative but because she so desperately wanted him to realize he needed help and to ask for it. He was digging himself into a deep ditch with an insanely unpleasant destination. She didn’t want to see him kill himself over the loss of a girl. He had fought and won battles. He was stronger than that. He could, and would, handle this. She was certain of it. So long as he sought the help he so desperately needed.  
“You know, Peter, I know you’re tired and you’re upset but you haven’t been a very good king lately. You’ve been neglecting every single one of your duties, just as you did when Eilonwy was sick” she stated sternly. Then, softening her gaze, she rested a gentle hand atop his and added, “I know you miss her, Peter. We all do. I know exactly how you feel but…but that doesn’t mean we can’t go on living our own lives.”  
At this, Peter jerked his head around to face her. “What do you mean you know how I feel? Lucy, nobody knows how I feel. And nobody ever will.” Despite the harsh edge in his voice, Lucy was just pleased that he had finally said something.  
She rolled her eyes, punching him lightly in the arm. “You underestimate me, Peter. I know exactly how you feel because what you’re feeling right now, that empty aimlessness, is exactly how I felt when Aslan left. I didn’t know how I was supposed to go on without him there guiding me every step of the way. I didn’t think I was strong enough to do any of this without him by my side, holding my hand like I was a baby. But here I am, and I’m doing fine without him right there. Besides, I know he’s not completely gone anyways. Wherever I go, he’ll always be there. Maybe not in person but he’s always with me. Right in here.” She pointed to her chest and a soft, genuine smile spread across her face, cheeks blushing. “I know it’s hard to see it now, Peter, but Eilonwy will always be with you so long as you hold her memory in your heart. Whether she does come back someday or not, you’ll carry your feelings for her with you always.”  
As Peter listened to his sister’s words, something inside him shifted. He wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse but he was certainly feeling something. “How do you know he’s with you? That he’s always there in…in spirit?” he asked slowly, cautiously, quietly.  
Lucy gazed off into the distance, unsure of how to answer. “I can just feel it. I can feel him watching over me. I can feel how proud he is of me, of all of us. It’s not something you can touch or even hear inside of you, it’s just there. I don’t really know how to explain it” she spoke. Granted, she knew Aslan and Eilonwy were both very different entities, that Eilonwy was not nearly as powerful and supernatural as the great lion was, but she hoped that at least the feelings of accompaniment were the same perhaps in the same way someone carries on the memory of those who have passed away. “You know, Peter, maybe it would do you some good to visit the library and read some of Aslan’s scriptures. I’ll admit I’ve been sneaking down there myself to read some of them, especially when I’ve been feeling upset missing home or my friends or even the professor and his big old house. Somehow reading about Aslan and his work makes me feel better. I don’t know, maybe it’ll make you feel better, too.”  
“I don’t know about that, Lucy…” he replied hesitantly. “This is…different. This is relationship stuff I don’t think you’d understand yet.”  
“Excuse you!” Lucy replied, insulted. She crossed her arms and huffed. “I understand plenty, Peter! You know how mature I am. I’m even the tallest in my class!”  
“I don’t think height directly correlates with maturity, Lu” Peter remarked, but then sighed and softened his tone. “I just…it’s hard to explain the difference but loving someone the way I loved Eilonwy is very different than loving someone the way you love Aslan. We both cared very deeply for each of them but…but Aslan is…well, he’s like a mentor. No matter where you are, he always knows where you’ve gone and what you’ve done. Eilonwy…she’s not like that. She doesn’t know what all we’re doing when she’s not here and likewise.”  
The valiant queen paused a moment to chew over her brother’s words. She was beginning to see the difference. It was the same way in which their mother missed their father when he went off to war, she presumed. Never knowing what was at stake, what her beloved was doing or if he was even alive. It was terror and uncertainty, walking on a tight rope over a tank of crocodiles ready to snap. “I think I understand…” she replied slowly. “But she might come back someday! I can’t imagine she’d leave forever.”  
“I just can’t believe I let her slip away” Peter sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll never find anyone who even comes to close to her ever again. I swear, she was the one I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. We had chemistry, there was something real between us, and I loved her. I swore she told me she loved me, too. I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love with anyone else ever again.” Running his hands through his hair, he looked up to stare longingly at the vast expanse of forest stretched out before him. “If only I could go after her” he whispered.  
“Well, why don’t you?” Lucy suggested, tilting her head.  
“I’m the High King, Lu! I can’t just get up and walk out to go searching for someone when I don’t even know where she went” Peter replied, exasperated. “I’ve got duties to attend to.”  
“Duties that you’re not exactly doing the best job of fulfilling at the moment, Peter” Lucy reminded him. The magnificent rolled his eyes but ruffled her hair playfully.  
“Well you’re not doing your duties right now, either, are you?” he chuckled, shaking his head. Not that Lucy had nearly as many responsibilities as he did. She was still a kid and therefore had a far lighter load than the head of the tetrarchy.  
The littlest Pevensie furrowed her brows, displeased with the insinuation, but knew her brother was right. In fact, his statement was a grave reminder that she was supposed to meet Susan in the grand hall that afternoon to help with interior design for the orphanage. “Do you think maybe you could at least consider my suggestion, Peter? About Aslan’s word? I think you might find it a lot more helpful than you think” she said as she stepped backwards toward the door. The High King didn’t find much use in the act, but he couldn’t deny such a sweet face. Waving her off, he flippantly replied that he would, watching her leave before turning back to the view with a thoughtful sigh.  
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Perhaps if he held it, it would numb the pain. Ten seconds, then twenty, then thirty, nothing. Peter huffed and gasped, threw his pillow over his face. In the silence and solace of the night, his thoughts seemed inescapable. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face staring back at him, childlike eyes and rounded jaw and gaunt features and monstrous brows. Something twisted and clenched inside of his stomach. Staggering to the bathroom, he collapsed in front of the toilet and heaved but nothing came of it. After a few minutes of hesitance, he leaned back against the bathroom wall and rubbed his face, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, ran his fingers through his matted hair. A sob caught in his throat that he refused to release. He was not going to cry. Not again.  
Once his stomach settled, a voice suddenly echoed in the back of his mind. Come to me, Peter, it called, deep and ominous. Come and I shall begin to mend your wounds. As if in a trance, Peter suddenly felt something strong and magnetic in the pit of his chest drawing him forward. He rose and wandered down the hallway, following the sensation wherever it seemed to lead him, until he stumbled upon the large double doors of the library. Suddenly, everything seemed to make sense. He tiptoed inside, scared someone might hear him, and climbed the ladder up to a shelf filled with books about Aslan and his scripture, his creation of Narnia and the history of the land. I suppose it wouldn’t be totally terrible to learn about what all happened here before we came along, he thought to himself, and then pulled a rather large tome from the shelf that read The History of Narnia.  
The High King seated himself at a nearby table and began mindlessly thumbing through the pages, hoping to land upon something that caught his eye. The majority of the book consisted mostly of just outrageously small print coated in a fine layer of dust but then, turning the page, he suddenly stumbled across a vibrant illustration that immediately captured his attention. The image depicted a king not unlike himself, tall with piercing blue eyes and straw-colored hair. He seemed young, also like himself, which truthfully caught Peter off-guard. He hadn’t expected any rulers of Narnia to be nearly as young as he and his siblings. The next page relayed the tale of the young king, who bore the name King Thaddeus, and the legend of his infatuation with a woodland nymph who they called Chloe. As Peter scanned the pages, fervently eating their words, a strong sense of understanding and comfort began to overwhelm him. He saw much of himself in Thaddeus’s character, in his stubbornness and passion and desperation. Thaddeus nearly lost his life for this mysterious figure whom he so loved, and much to his chagrin, Peter saw himself in the horrifying early stages of the same path. He had a country to look after, of which he was the High King. There was no longer time for childish follies and romantic escapades. Sneaking the book into his robe (for he didn’t want to lose track of it), he scampered back to bed as a newfound strength began to take root deep inside of him. His grief for Eilonwy was not completely gone, not in the slightest, but perhaps now moving on didn’t seem so impossible. Perhaps now he had the confidence and the willpower to stand on his own two feet, to walk without her guidance, to rule without her beside him. For the first time in weeks, he slept peacefully that night.  
Morning light cast the dining hall in a cool and ethereal glow as the Pevensies gathered for breakfast. Susan eyed her siblings with conviction as they waited on the High King, terrified of what they ought to find.  
“I tried speaking with him yesterday” Lucy whispered. “He seemed really distraught. I hope he’s feeling better this morning.” The gentle and just nodded enthusiastically.  
Peter waltzed into the hall with a strange and unnerving smile pasted upon his face. He greeted his siblings, filled his plate with waffles and delicious treats, and ate in a contented silence in which they had not seen of him in ages.  
“Well, you seem like you’re in a rather peppy mood today, Peter” Susan commented, refusing to look him in the eye. If he had fallen off the deep end, she was certain that distance was the smartest tactic to employ. The magnificent simply nodded with a grin.  
“Are you alright?” Edmund asked, suspicion lacing his tone. “I mean, I assume you’re feeling better but…what happened?”  
Peter finally met the eyes of his siblings, placing his fists upon the table in a not at all violent fashion. “I had a lot of time to think last night” he began, “And I’ve decided I’m done with all this childish sulking.” He was met with a series of wide eyes and questioning gazes.  
“A-are you sure…?” Lucy asked carefully. She wasn’t entirely convinced Peter was in the right frame of mind at the moment. She feared he was being hasty, shoving his emotions into the pit of his stomach in an attempt to ignore their hold. When she suggested he look to Aslan for help, it wasn’t that she was pressuring him to feel better. She simply wanted him to open his heart and mind to healing. She never expected him to be cured of his grief overnight. According to their equally unconvinced looks, Lucy was sure Susan and Edmund felt the same.  
“I’m positive” Peter affirmed. “I’ve realized I’ve spent far too long neglecting my duties, and I don’t mean just in the past few weeks. I’ve been neglecting my responsibilities from the very start and that’s not at all fair to any of you. I’m ready to return to the throne and reclaim my place as High King again. I’m ready to rule completely, to devote my time to the wellbeing of this country.”  
Again, he was met with questioning gazes and wide eyes, even a mouth popped slightly ajar. “Peter, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Susan asked tenderly, placing a hand upon his shoulder. “You know, you don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. Nobody said you had to do this.”  
The magnificent shook his head. “But I want to do this” he replied. “Better yet, I need to do this. I can’t let myself wallow in self pity any longer.” A growing confidence began to overwhelm him, spreading outward from his core. The corners of his lips curled up into a small smile as he nodded his head once and added firmly, “It’s time I grew up.”


	2. VOL 2, EP. 14: Workaholic

      Sludge caked the ground as the winter’s snow began to melt and mix with the dirt. Lucy ran through the garden with wild abandon, not caring if she dirtied her skirts, as she indulged in the warmer weather and the tiny buds sprouting on branches. A hint of spring, pastel and dainty and precious, lingered in the air. Soon cherry blossoms would line the trails and the sweet aroma of fresh blooms would coat the country in a sugary haze. As much as Lucy loved winter and all of it’s offerings, she absolutely delighted in spring. 

     “Lucy, please be careful!” Susan called, contemplating running after her at the risk of muddying her dress. She didn’t want to look completely unpresentable, even if they weren’t expecting guests any time soon.  
      “Why should I? It’s so beautiful out!” the valiant called back, weaving through rows of labyrinthine shrubberies.  
      “Calm down, Susan. Let Lu have a bit of fun” Edmund replied, sidling up to his sister. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he watched his baby sister frolic and play. She was as carefree as they came and it warmed his heart to see her enjoy herself so much. He wished he hadn’t taken advantage of her optimistic innocence in the past.  
      “You ought to be telling Peter that” the gentle replied tiredly, shaking her head. She looked up at the window to his office, slightly creaked ajar so that the cool breeze swept into the room. She could just see him now, hunched over his desk reading and rereading every single paper ten times over as if he was certain he wasn’t fully comprehending any of it. He signed every document slowly, cautiously, like the entire planet might explode if he didn’t take his time. Thus was the way of the past two months. Peter never took a break. “It’s like he went from one extreme to the other” Susan added disdainfully. “I hate seeing him do these sorts of things to himself. If only he’d just listen…”  
      “I think by now he might be beyond saving” Edmund remarked, slightly joking. Susan didn’t think he was very funny. “Listen, all I’m saying is that maybe this is what Peter needs. You saw how he was with Eilonwy. He put her before his work. Now that she’s gone, he’s been doing nothing but work to deal with her absence and that might not be the worst thing. This is the most productive we’ve been all year thanks to him.”  
      The young queen shook her head. “No, Edmund, this is not what Peter needs. What he needs is help” she argued. “Can’t we speak with Aesop about this and ask for some sort of potion to cure him of this?”  
      “I’d say go for it but that’s the thing: Peter’s not sick, he’s productive” Edmund said. “And you should be grateful for that. He’s doing good work, Su, whether he knows it or not. He’s signing treaties. He’s making alliances and setting up a real import and export system. He’s even pushed for construction on your orphanage. If nothing else, you have to be happy about that!”  
      Edmund had a point, that was undeniable. Still, Susan found it hard to believe that all this hard work was without consequence. Sooner or later, Peter was bound to burn out. And when he did, absolutely everything would come crashing down in a cataclysmic explosion that nobody really wanted to see. There wasn’t much they could do, though. Peter was stubborn and perseverant. No matter what they tried, they knew he wouldn’t budge. Even a game of cricket was refused in the stead of more work. All that was left to do was wait in hushed tensity until he broke so they could clean up the leftover pieces and patch him back together again.  
      “I know it’s rather treasonous to speak ill of your king behind his back” Tumnus whispered one afternoon, “But I must say, I’m growing rather concerned about King Peter!”  
      “He’s a sorry bloke, he is” Mr. Beaver replied. “Ever since Ellie left, things haven’t been quite the same.”  
      “Oh, I do wish she had at least told us where she was off to” Mrs. Beaver said, pacing back and forth as she wrung her hands together. “Why does she always do this?!”  
      “Because she’s an inconsiderate little wench who deserves a right smacking!” Mr. Beaver said. He loved Eilonwy like a daughter, he really did, but he was never fond of her random disappearances. He felt he and his wife had a right to know when and where she was running off to all the time. Especially now, after all they had been through and all the changes that had come their way. It’s far easier to come and go from a little dam as it is a heavily guarded castle. Sooner or later, she wouldn’t be allowed back.  
      Mr. Beaver rose from his seat and rubbed his wife’s back. He hated seeing her so distraught. It wasn’t right for Eilonwy to worry her so. However, it was unfortunately very characteristic.  
      “I’m sure Eilonwy had her reasons” Tumnus said with a wag of his finger. He was far more forgiving of the girl, perhaps a little too much. He cared for Eilonwy deeply, not in a romantic sort of way but as deeply as you love your long-time best friend. In many ways, that was what Eilonwy was to him. They didn’t always get along but he still treasured her companionship deeply and unconditionally, which said a lot considering the way she had treated him during their last encounter before his imprisonment.  
      “She doesn’t think!” Mr. Beaver exclaimed. “She thinks about no one but herself. She’s hurting us. She’s hurting the country. And she’s especially hurting Peter!”  
      “I know why she did what she did” Mrs. Beaver then spoke, shaking her head as if she had a terrible migraine. “She spoke to me in confidence that night in Allies Enclave. She told me of her uncertainties, of her fear that Peter was to ask for her hand. She said she didn’t feel she was ready for something like that, that she wasn’t even sure if she was happy here. I suppose Peter’s plans scared her off and that’s why she left.” Her paws were shaking at her sides, she was so overwhelmed with emotion. “To think, I could’ve stopped this if I had only…if I had only spoken to her just a little while longer!”  
      “Don’t blame yourself, love” Mr. Beaver comforted. “None of this was your fault. Eilonwy’s the only one to blame. I just hope that while she’s gone, she learns to grow up and take responsibility for her actions, or else.”  
      “I guess all we can do now is hope King Peter will be alright” Tumnus spoke. The Beavers nodded sadly, intertwining their paws in an act of support and reassurance. They would simply have to wait out the storm in quiet unity.  
      Peter was not alright. Dark circles highlighted bloodshot eyes and there was a pallor to his face that his siblings knew couldn’t be healthy. All he ever wanted to do was work. Even at breakfast, he leaned over a stack of papers his eyes scanned once, twice, three times over while mindlessly snacking on a pastry.  
      “Peter, don’t you think you ought to put that away, at least while you eat?” Susan asked as cautiously as possible. She couldn’t stand to see him do this to himself, but she didn’t want to trouble the waters anymore than they already were, either. The High King acted as if he hadn’t even heard her, going about his business and taking another bite of his food. “Peter, I’m sure whatever that is can wait until you’re finished eating” she continued, a bit more stern this time. Now he replied with a soft grunt, but his eyes remained locked on his work. Susan was beginning to lose her cool, fists gradually clenching at her sides. “Peter…” she said, attempting to remain as soft as possible. Edmund and Lucy could tell something was brewing deep inside of her. “For the love of all that is holy, Peter William Pevensie will you please just for once stop working?!”  
      The entire room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Edmund and Lucy glanced to each other frantically, as if they wanted to escape but had no means to. The pair tensed in their chairs, awaiting the ensuing reaction. Both of them knew it wouldn’t be pretty.  
      Peter’s eyes slowly lifted from his work, hand tightening it’s grip around the quill. There was an anger in his eyes they had only ever seen the likes of at Beruna, something raw and violent and real. Susan straightened her back and stood her ground, tilting her chin slightly upward in dominance. “How dare you presume I don’t know what I’m doing” he growled. “How dare you order your king to stop his work!”  
      “How dare you talk back to your queen!” Susan shouted back.  
      “My queen?! I am superior to you, Susan, and I will do as I please! If I want to work during breakfast, I damn will!” Peter said. His face was starting to grow red with rage, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip. “I can do whatever the hell I please, Susan! I can do whatever I want!” he then began to shout, growing louder and louder with every reiteration. “I can declare war on Calormen if I wanted! I can sail to Galma without any notice! I can ride to Ettinsmoor and search for Eilonwy if I wanted! And I can certainly sit and sign papers while I eat this stupid little pastry!” he screamed, taking a violent bite of his food at the end of it all. Tears welled in his eyes for as he shouted, something within him began to snap. He did his best to hold himself together but he had to face facts: he was finally crumbling.  
      The moment Susan noticed this emotional shift, she softened her gaze immediately. “Peter, I…” she began but Peter interrupted her.  
      “Don’t even bother! I don’t want to hear it!” he shouted. Slamming his leftovers onto the plate, he swiped his hand across the table with a mighty yell and sent all of his paperwork flying. Lucy gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, instinctively gripping Edmund’s with the other. “I don’t want to hear any of it!” Peter screamed, tears rolling down his cheeks now. He stalked to the door and with one rough motion, slammed it shut behind him with such vigor the entire castle shook.  
      Susan buried her face in her trembling hands, holding back tears of her own. A part of her wanted to just rush after him and try to comfort him but she knew that was the worst thing she could’ve done. It was evident now that Peter was utterly inconsolable. There was nothing anyone could do to heal his wounds. The High King would have no other choice but to heal himself.  
      Barrelling down the hallways, Peter burst through the double doors and darted straight to the stables. It had been weeks since he had visited Besnik, terrified of the thought of returning after he and Eilonwy’s tearful goodbye. Now that he was back, all the memories flooded back in vivid technicolor, a million daggers stabbing at his chest. A wail broke past his lips as he kicked at the ground, drew his sword, and began hacking at the wooden post of his steed’s pen. Besnik reared with a fearful neigh, recoiling and shaking his head in distaste.  
      “Easy there, your highness! You’ll hack a limb off if you’re not careful” Phillip retorted.  
      “I’m not in the mood for scolding, Phil!” Peter remarked, taking another rather large swing at the post.  
      “Well, if anything, be careful not to spook the horse” Phillip whinnied, tilting his head toward the unicorn. Not that Phil’s words made much difference: Besnik was already pretty psyched out.  
      Once Peter had released the bulk of his anger, his eyes fell upon his steed apologetically. Gasping for breath, he sheathed his sword and trudged forward, extending a hand to calm the creature. “I’m sorry, Bes. I didn’t mean to scare you” he cooed.  
      “Then what did you mean to do, if I may ask?” Phillip interjected. Peter didn’t really want to have this conversation right now, but he had no idea how to reject a horse’s conversational advances.  
      “I just needed a bit of a release, is all” he mumbled, averting his eyes. Phillip nodded knowingly.  
      “You miss Eilonwy, I know” he said. His voice seemed much softer now than before. “I miss her, too.”  
      At this, Peter finally met the horse’s friendly brown eyes. There was a sadness in them that was very familiar to the young king. “You do…?” he asked. The steed nodded.  
      “She’d always give me some extra oats every time she came down to visit Everlast” he replied fondly. “I miss Everlast a great deal, as well. She was a dear friend, a true blue ally. I dream of the day she may someday return.”  
      Phillip spoke with such affection for the mare that Peter began to wonder whether there was something deeper between the two of them. The thought of an equine romance was both overwhelmingly bizarre and mildly heartbreaking to him. To think, Phillip and Everlast in love, only for the mare to be pulled away unwillingly by a rider whose heart was in the wrong place. A pang of anger coursed through Peter at the idea. Nothing about this was fair. For anyone. He leaned against Besnik’s stall and sighed. “I feel the same way, Phil. I feel exactly the same way.”  
      While Peter was gone, Lucy sat upon the balcony inhaling the fresh air and reveling in how beautiful the sea looked. It had been so long since they had ventured off someplace, she felt, that perhaps a good voyage abroad was in order. The more she thought about it, however, the more an idea began to form in her mind until…  
      “Susan! Susan!” the littlest Pevensie called as she rushed down the hallway. She assumed she’d find her big sister in the library, per usual, hard at work on her orphanage plans. As expected, the gentle stood before a long table filled with blueprints and sketches and design notes.  
      “What is it now, Lucy?” she asked, slightly frustrated. There was still so much to be done, and Susan was determined to make this place perfect. Lucy didn’t give a care how important this was right now, her idea was the most important.  
      Skidding to a halt at her sister’s side, Lucy grasped Susan’s arm and stared at her with stars in her eyes, brilliant and brimming with excitement. “I have an idea for curing Peter.”  
      As night fell across Narnia, Peter rode through the woods on the back of his loyal steed. There was something bizarre about returning to the forests, especially as winter was beginning to melt and make way for spring. He thought back to their journey just a year before, to the cherry tree and Aslan’s camp. To Eilonwy standing by his side and fighting against his wishes at Beruna. A tightness filled his chest at the thought of her. A part of him desperately wished he’d somehow run into her out here polishing her sword beneath a tree or making camp near Allies Enclave. Anything so long as he could see her one last time, and perhaps even attempt to convince her to come back home.  
      But no, he knew that was impossible. She was gone and she was never coming back. He needed to make peace with that. As much as it hurt to say it, he couldn’t possibly go on constantly thinking that at any moment, she may return. If she wanted to come back, she would’ve by now.  
      He continued to ride all the way until he reached a clearing where a lamppost shone brightly. A tinge of familiarity crossed his mind: this was where it had all began. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat. Everything seemed so different now coming from the other direction, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. A thick tangle of trees lay on the other side and for a moment– just a moment– he wondered if the wardrobe was still there. _I wonder what would happen if maybe, just maybe, I went back,_ he thought to himself, but then shoved the idea away as quickly as it came. That was absurd. There was no way he could leave, even if he wanted to. He was far too kind to leave his siblings behind, to let them wonder what the hell had happened to him. Plus, he realized, once you walk out, whose to say you’re ever guaranteed to return? Dismounting Besnik, he stepped lightly toward the branches in an effort to at least take a peek. Much to his surprise, there was nothing but foliage. The wardrobe was completely gone. A surge of panic coursed through him at the realization. It was one thing to leave and never come back, but another matter entirely to enter and never escape. He recoiled uneasily, clinging to the lamppost as he caught his breath and calmed his gut. Nobody said they were ever bound to leave, anyways. But nobody ever said they were bound to stay, either. The uncertainty began to overwhelm Peter until his head was spinning and he felt like he was going to throw up. He didn’t like not knowing, but at the same time had realized he had spent a great deal of time that way so this shouldn’t have been such a surprise.  
      Blue eyes lifted up to the moon and stars overhead, accompanied by a defeated sigh. Wherever Eilonwy was in the world, he began to wonder if she was staring up at the same sky, too. If only he knew. He supposed that was as close as he’d ever get to her, even if that wasn’t enough for him. If only she would just come home already. Without her, he was certain he was nothing.  
      Susan flitted over to the grand hall as the sun broke past the horizon, joining her brother and sister in hopeful excitement. “He should be here any minute now” she whispered frantically. Lucy nodded with great delight.  
      “Did you see him at all on the way here?” Edmund asked.  
      Susan shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning, truthfully. I hope he’s alright.”  
      “Well, he better be!” Lucy exclaimed. Just as she spoke, the sound of heavy footsteps rang from down the hall. Susan shushed the others and motioned for them to stand up straight and look presentable. Peter entered the room shortly after.  
      The High King glanced to his siblings suspiciously as he slowly stepped inside, immediately sensing something was up. “Are you three alright…?” They all nodded. “Well, what’s going on…?”  
      “We have something we’d like to show you!” Lucy exclaimed. She bounded forward, taking her big brother’s hand in hers, and guiding him toward the large window draped shut. Susan slowly pulled the tasseled drawstring back to reveal the Splendor Hyaline docked and ready for departure. The magnificent’s eyes widened in a panic, trying to speak but producing no sound. “Don’t you love it, Peter? A week long trip to the isles all for you!”  
      “B-but…why?” he finally asked.  
      “You’ve been working really hard, Pete, and we decided you deserved a bit of a vacation” Edmund stepped forward to explain.  
      “But I have so much work to do still…” Peter argued, dazed and confused.  
      “Nonsense, Peter. You’ve done enough already. Now it’s time for you to simply sit back and relax for once” Susan replied, resting her hands on his shoulders from behind. “Just trust us on this, please. We really think you deserve it.”  
      “Well, a-are you all coming, too?” he asked. The three of them nodded.  
      “I mean, unless you don’t want us to. You could sail alone, but I don’t see much of the fun in that” Edmund remarked.  
      “But what about the orphanage? And the spy corporation?” the magnificent asked.  
      “All taken care of” Susan replied. “Sallowpad is more than prepared to man the spy corporation, and the Beavers are taking over the orphanage project while I’m gone. They’re far more suited for matters of construction and design than I am, anyways, so I’m putting my full trust in them.”  
      By now, Peter couldn’t help but laugh. All of this felt so surreal, as if he was trapped in some sort of hazy summer dream that he would wake up from at any moment. A nagging portion of him whispered to refuse, that he had far too much work left to do at the Cair, but the looks on his sibling’s faces made it hard not to accept. Sighing in defeat, he shook his head and replied, “Alright. A trip to the isles it is, I suppose.” Lucy cheered with absolute joy at her brother’s decision, leaping up to wrap her arms around him excitedly. As they all rejoiced in the voyage ahead, Peter looked out across the sea in hope that this was just the sort of reprieve he needed. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.


	3. VOL 2, EP. 15: Out to Sea

     Come daybreak, the Splendor Hyaline sat awaiting it’s passengers in port. With the vast expanse before them, Peter was truly reminded of how transcendentally therapeutic a day at sea can be. It was as if that blue abyss could dissolve his troubles and clear his head in a way no other atmosphere could. 

     “Enjoying yourself?” Lucy asked, approaching her brother at the bow. He stood with his face towards the sun, eyes closed as he drank up it’s light.  
      A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he nodded in reply. “Thank you for this, Lucy. I really appreciate it.”  
      “I do have pretty great ideas” she said proudly, squaring her shoulders and standing a little taller.  
      “Now is not the time to get cocky, Lu” Peter joked, ruffling her hair. She wrinkled her nose and giggled in response. “But I really think you had the right idea with this, Lucy. It hasn’t even been two hours yet and I’m already starting to feel better.”  
      The valiant beamed with pride. It felt like it had been so long since she had seen her brother so content. Not only was she proud of her work, she was pleased to know that there were more ways to heal a person than just using her cordial. Besides, some wounds can’t be mended with potions and elixirs.  
      “Captain Guildmore says we should reach Galma by nightfall tomorrow” she said. “The duke is waiting for us, he has the guest rooms already all set up. And then after a few days there, perhaps one of the Seven Isles? One we haven’t visited yet!”  
      Peter smiled approvingly at her suggestion. He loved the fact that their destinations weren’t set in stone. Galma was a necessity, of course, but after that, the choice was fully theirs. They were free to journey wherever they pleased, and without any particular implication of alliances or barters. They were simply tourists seeking a little change of scenery.  
      As their voyage progressed, the High King portioned the rest of his day so that he could spend a little quality time with each of his siblings. After so much strife the past couple months, he felt it was necessary to devote some undivided attention to them. He first joined Susan on deck as they thumbed through a collection of books she had brought aboard for interior design references. While the subject matter wasn’t exactly his forte, he enjoyed seeing Susan’s passion for this orphanage project. She put every ounce of care she could muster into ensuring this was a wondrous place for all those who would live there with cozy beds and pleasant wallpaper and lots of natural light.  
      “I want this to look nothing like the stuffy old orphanages in London, with raggedy children hanging out of every window” she said sternly. “This place needs to be fit for royalty. Narnia’s underprivileged deserve nothing less. And besides, when you live better, you feel better.” Peter couldn’t agree more.  
      When it came time to hang out with Edmund, the just already had a number of activities planned. Of course a game or two of chess was guaranteed, seeing as it was his favorite. He was, in a word, unbeatable and took great delight in watching Peter’s playful frustration grow. “It’s all about strategy, Pete. This is why I handle the more logical aspects of the job” he commented, laughing lightly. Though Peter rolled his eyes, he knew this was more than true. Edmund had a knack for the tactical that the High King certainly lacked. Edmund made the plans, while Peter executed them. Brains and brawn, so to speak. After chess, they moved on to poker, backgammon, and charades (which Susan and Lucy were more than happy to join).  
      Lucy was perhaps the most excited for her morsel of quality time. She had nothing planned, opting instead to simply make things up as they went. What ensued was an afternoon filled with childish delight, playing makeshift hopscotch on the poop deck and watching for dolphins at the ship’s stern. They were lucky enough to catch sight of a few off in the distance, though the young queen observed they looked a little extraordinary. “I wonder if dolphins in Narnia are different than the ones back home” she pondered. Despite their distance, there was something strange about the way they swam and the way their flukes skated above the surface that led both to believe that perhaps they weren’t really dolphins at all, but rather some other strange sea creature not known by man.  
      By sunset, Peter was drenched in positivity. His steps were lighter and his face shone brighter. Eilonwy had yet to cross his mind the entire day. Perhaps this was what healing truly felt like: a redemption of spirit, like a warm blanket of optimism in an otherwise bleak and frigid winter. He almost believed he had never felt better. Or at least during the day. Come nightfall, all hope of smooth sailing had completely shattered.  
      Susan pursed her lips, keeping a white knuckled grip on the dining table. Needless to say, serving peas at dinner was not the best idea as the ship rocked back and forth violently. Lucy looked to her sister in panic, struggling to keep her footing. At this point, the valiant didn’t care much for food. She could barely think of eating at a time like this. She was sure whatever she swallowed would undoubtedly come right back up.  
      Edmund peered out of the porthole curiously, watching as the waves lapped against the glass. “It looks like a hurricane out there” he commented. Much to his siblings’ chagrin, Edmund was one of those kids who took great delight in watching the world engulfed in chaos. Thunderstorms, air raids, you name it and he was glued to the window, fascinated. “I wonder what’s causing all of this” he added thoughtfully, more to himself than anything else.  
      “Well, whatever it is, I hope it comes to it’s senses and stops!” Susan exclaimed. Unlike her brother, she was silently begging for this all to be over. She knew the only way she’d be able to tolerate something so intense was if she was asleep, but at this point her chances of getting any rest were growing slimmer and slimmer.  
      “I’m going to go up on deck and see if I can get a better look!” Edmund suddenly exclaimed. Before they could stop him, he was already out the door.  
      As the just king reached the deck, he quickly realized how horrible an idea this was. If the floor tilting beneath him wasn’t enough to knock him over, the violent winds were. The moment he glimpsed over the side of the ship, however, he knew he needed a closer look. Under the surface glowed a strange blue light the likes of which Edmund had never before seen. It was absolutely captivating and despite his better judgment, he swore he heard an echo draw him nearer. Bursting onto the deck, breathless, the others barely caught sight of their brother as he tipped over the edge and disappeared beneath the murky depths.  
      “Just perfect!” Susan shouted, clinging to the mast. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?”  
      “What do you think?” Peter shouted over the roaring waves. “We have to go after him!” He rushed to the side of the ship, fully prepared to dive in, but Susan caught him by his collar and pulled him back.  
      “And risk you getting killed, too? Peter, that’s suicide!” Susan protested.  
      “But we have to save him! He’s our brother!” Lucy argued back. She was right. He needed their help now just as he needed rescuing from Jadis. The only question was how t do it without killing themselves in the process.  
      “Do you see him anywhere?” Susan asked, scanning the sea. Peter shook his head frantically.  
      “He must’ve gone under!” he shouted back. Turning to his sister, he pursed his lips and eyed her with a sorry expression. “I have to go get him. I have no other choice.”  
      Susan didn’t like the idea, but she knew there was no other alternative. Lucy rushed to the other end of the boat, clinging to everything in sight, to retrieve a coil of rope and spare life preserver. The High King tied the rope around his waist, attaching the ring with it, and then gave a brief hug to each of his sisters just in case. Should he not return, well…he didn’t want to humor the possibility. Susan dutifully tied the other end of the rope around the mast, not trusting her or Lucy’s strength. With hands intertwined, they watched as Peter sucked in a deep breath, mustered all of his courage, and dove over the side of the ship.  
      The waves thrashed against him wildly, tossing him to and fro and even holding him under. In the darkness, he could scarcely see anything but he prayed for a miracle anyways. He had no other choice. With each surface, he gasped for breath hoping the waves would be so generous as to let him finish before throwing him under once again. It was in one of these instances when, off in the distance, he swore he caught sight of a round, black something bobbing in the current. Edmund. Peter opened his mouth to scream but was immediately met with a large gulp of water and another violent wave. Before he could make a sound, he was tossed back below the surface.  
      Submerged, he flailed his arms wildly and struggled for breath. As his lungs begged for oxygen, however, something began to glow beneath him. His heart raced in his chest, fearing perhaps the cruel light of death was upon him, but this was very different than what he expected. Instead of bright and white, this was an organic illumination, shifting like the rays of the sun. They seemed to come from the core of someplace deep and mysterious. It enticed him, luring him nearer, as the underwater echo of a strange, sweet song wafted through the sea. Suddenly his aching lungs were no longer his primary concern, for all he wanted was to immerse himself in this light. The longer he stared at it, the more it began to condense into some unidentified shape. At first it was a mere blob, lifeless and strange, but gradually the image grew sharper until he swore he could make out the silhouette of some ethereal being. One moment, it appeared fish-like with a glittering tail much like the dolphins he and Lucy saw earlier. The next, he was met with a haunting face. Not just any face but that of a woman. Something shifted in his chest as she floated nearer, and he was convinced then that he must be dying because surely this had to have been an angel. She reminded him of the woman he saw in his dreams, the one cloaked in red, the one whom his heart still yearned for. She reminded him of Eilonwy. He extended his arms out to her, welcoming her into his embrace, but before she could reach him, something harsh dug into his chest. All at once, he was hit with the sweet splendor of cold night air.  
      Gasping, he clambered back onto the deck and toward his sisters, who shouted in fear of what they had just witnessed.  
      “Well, did you find anything?” Susan called, kneeling by his side. When she noticed him shivering, she wrapped her shawl around his shoulders and rubbed his arms in a very maternal fashion. Peter shook his head in defeat.  
      Lucy stared out at the ocean in awe, her heart nearly breaking at the thought of Edmund gone forever. They needed to find him– he had to be somewhere– but the ocean was vast and violent. He was likely to be all the way at the end of the world by now. An overwhelming sensation rose in her throat as she clenched her fists at her side, letting out a tremendous scream. “Edmund!”  
      “Lucy, it’s no use. He won’t be able to hear us” Peter replied sadly. He wiped his face free of excess water and leaned against the mast tiredly. His baby sister stared back at him with tearful eyes, refusing to believe that this was the end.  
      “What are we going to do now?” she asked softly.  
      Peter paused a moment, unsure of how to even answer. He felt helpless, that there was nothing left within his power, but he knew there needed to be something logical nestled within his brain. He needed to think in terms of tactics. He needed to think like Edmund. Once in the proper mindset, something finally clicked.  
      “I’m going to order Guildmore to dock at the nearest isle” he finally said, bundled in a blanket in the dining hall. Steam from his tea wafted below his nose and filled him with a sense of focus and warmth. “Once we’re there, we’ll make use of their navy and start an ocean-wide search party. After all, the Eastern Sea is only so big and there are only so many places he could’ve disappeared to. It’ll have to do. It’s our only option.” He prayed he sounded convincing. In the back of his mind, he heard Edmund’s voice reply, _They call it ‘great’ for a reason, Pete. It’s not going to be that easy._ He hoped to Aslan that that voice was wrong.  
      The Splendor Hyaline slowly crept toward Galma’s shores where the duke stood anxiously awaiting his guests. “So wonderful to see you all again, your majesties!” he bellowed from the dock with arms outstretched. “It seems as though your party is a bit smaller this time, though. Wherever is the fourth?”  
      “That’s kind of the trouble, sir” Peter replied. “Late last night, King Edmund fell overboard and we haven’t been able to locate him since. If you would be so kind as to lend us your navy, then perhaps we could find him before he…well, I don’t want to think about the alternative.”  
      The duke, a wildly generous man, wouldn’t hear another word of it. He immediately called forth a rather scrawny man, perhaps an assistant, and ordered him at once to ready their ships and prepare for their search. Guildmore stalked forward, announcing he would head the mission aboard the Narnian ship and that if anyone found anything, they were to report to him immediately. Susan thanked the duke profusely, grasping his hands tightly and kissing him on either cheek. His immense generosity was not to go unnoticed. She just hoped it would be enough.  
      “Nonsense!” the duke replied with a swat of his hand. “It is the least I can do after all your help last summer. Without you, there would be nothing left of my nation.” The Pevensies couldn’t thank him enough.  
      The entire rest of the day was spent searching every league for their dear brother but come sunset, they were depressingly unsuccessful. They returned to the mansion by dinner but, understandably, no one was very hungry. The duke comforted them and offered to do everything in his power to ensure their stay was as comfortable as possible, and had his kitchens opened for the rest of the night in case their hunger found them in the wee morning hours.  
      Peter climbed into bed, exhausted, but found he was completely unable to sleep. He tossed and turned as if he was back at sea, a symphony of terrible thoughts swirling through his head. Flashbacks of all the times he had been cruel to Edmund, and of all the times he almost lost him, flickered through his mind. First his disappearance to Jadis’s, then his wound on the battlefield, and now this. The only difference was that this time, he lacked a shoulder to cry on. Not only was his brother gone, but the only person he ever truly felt comfortable confiding in was gone, as well. He rose from his bed to stare up at the stars overhead, dotting the sky like pinholes in a black sheet, and wished that wherever Eilonwy was, that she’d somehow find her way back to him and help him. He knew it was nothing but a pipe dream and therefore quickly purged it from his mind. He should be spending those wishes on Edmund, wishing for his brother’s return. If only Edmund had never gone on deck in the first place, then he would be safe and sound with them where he belonged.  
      The High King evidently wasn’t the only restless one that night. Susan could scarcely sleep, either, her mind focused on the same kinds of horrible things as her brother’s. A part of her sense that he was feeling insomniatic, as well, and so she slipped on her robe and slippers and shuffled down the hall to confront him. Peter answered just like she knew he would and, without a word, ushered her inside his chambers.  
      “I figured you’d be awake” she commented, perching herself on the edge of the bed. He nodded and settled in beside her.  
      “I just can’t stop thinking about Ed. I’m so scared, Susan” he replied, shaking his head. His sister placed a gentle hand on his back and sighed.  
      “I think we all are” she whispered. “What if we never find him?”  
      “We have to find him” Peter insisted. “I refuse to return to Narnia until we do. We can’t go back without him. We have no choice.” Susan quietly agreed, drawing her knees up to her chest. A moment of silence then passed before Peter rose and began pacing the room, pounding his fist upon the nearby desk. “I just wish we’d find something already!”  
      “Peter, it’s only been twenty-four hours” Susan replied.  
      “But the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial. There’s no way he could’ve possibly tread water for this long or–or– or kept his head above water enough to not drown! What if his body is sinking to the ocean floor as we speak, never to be seen again?”  
      “Peter!” Susan cried, cupping her hands over her ears. This was not the kind of negativity she needed right now. Peter was feeding her mental images she didn’t dare entertain. “Peter, listen to me. Galma’s navy is doing all they can to search for him. For all we know, one of the ships further out might’ve found him already and is bringing him back to us safe and sound. Let’s please just try to keep our heads about this. There’s no use carrying an umbrella around waiting for it to rain.”  
      “Susan, it’s already raining. In fact, it’s storming. I think right now is a very good time break out the umbrella!” he shouted back. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, unsure of what else to say. Peter paused a moment, struggling to calm himself, before looking to his sister and sinking into the seat beside her. “I’m sorry, Su” he whispered, eyes locked on the floor. “I just don’t know what else to do.”  
      “I know, Peter. I’m scared, too” she replied softly, looking to him with glassy eyes. “I guess all that’s left to do is just try to have faith that he’ll be fine, even if we aren’t fully sure of it yet.”  
      The magnificent nodded slowly, swiping the back of his hand across his running rose and sucking in a deep breath. He hated this. He hated everything about this. With a groan, he collapsed backwards onto the bed and crossed his arms over his face.  
      “I just wish we didn’t have to wait so long” he complained.  
      “I know” Susan muttered, resting a hand on his arm. “I feel the same way. But I suppose we can’t do anything more, so we might as well try to make the best of it.”  
      Peter nodded, moving his arms to stare up at his sister sadly. There was a sadness in her eyes that proved that she, too, wasn’t fully confident in her own words. It didn’t help her credibility one bit but there was nothing else to be done about it. There was nothing else to be done about any of it. They were all stuck in the same unpleasant predicament, but at least they could find comfort in knowing they were stuck there together.  
      The only one who seemed to have gotten even the slightest bit of sleep was Lucy. She bounded out to the balcony bright-eyed and anxious for another day at sea, much to her siblings’ disdain. “I’m sure we’ll find Edmund today. I know we will, I just know it! I can feel it” sh rambled while stuffing bites of her pancake into her face.  
      Peter nodded tiredly, halfheartedly. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for yet another day at sea. He was too afraid of getting his hopes up only to return at sunset empty-handed. There was far too much at stake. At this point, it seemed they would need nothing short of a miracle.  
      “At least it already appears as if it’s going to be a beautiful day! Not a cloud in the sky” the duke commented. Anything to try and lift their spirits.  
      “Seems like you’re not the only one who thinks so” Susan remarked. She peered over the balcony to the beach below, a rather large crowd forming on the shoreline. They seemed quite intrigued by something the gentle couldn’t quite decipher, for there were so many of them blocking the view.  
      Noticing her sister’s heightened interest, Lucy hopped from her seat and skirted around the table to see what she could find. “I wonder what they’re all staring at” she pondered thoughtfully. Images of beached whales or nesting sea turtles flashed through her mind. It obviously must’ve been something outrageously worthwhile for many a villager elbowed their way through the crowd desperate for a peek. “Maybe we ought to go down and take a look” she then added.  
      “And get caught up in a crowd like that? I don’t think so” Peter replied, now joining his sisters. “Besides, we have more important things to worry about. We have to find Edmund. We can’t afford to waste anymore time!”  
      As he spoke, Susan’s face turned ghostly pale. “Uh, Peter…I think we’re going to find him much sooner than we expected” she whispered in terror. A trembling finger pointed toward the scene, the crowd parting as guards rushed in to regulate. The moment they moved out of the way, they could see a rather disheveled figure washed ashore. Dark hair and pale body, cloaked in the tatters of what once were luxurious fabrics. They all recognized him immediately. _Edmund._


	4. VOL 2, EP 16: Siren's Clutch

      “See? I told you we’d find him today! I knew it the whole time, I just knew it!” Lucy shouted as the trio raced down the beach. Hearts raced in unison as they elbowed their way through the crowd, shouting their titles in an effort to receive more cooperation. The guards fought back against the hoards of villagers desperate to sneak a peek, nodding toward the Pevensies in understanding and approval. The moment they reached the ocean’s edge, their hearts sank. Edmund laid on the sand pale and lifeless, limbs wrapped with seaweed and face crusted with sand.

     Lucy knelt beside him, immediately whipping the cap off of her cordial and pouring a droplet into his mouth. In a matter of seconds, he rolled onto his side and began to violently cough up whatever water had entered his lungs. Tears streamed down all of their faces, relieved to see their brother alive, leaning in to hug him tightly.  
      “Edmund, you idiot! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Peter scolded, brushing the sand from his face. The just simply mumbled nonsense in response and looked to the three of them with a drunken gaze.  
      “We need to get him back to the mansion immediately” Susan replied, helping Peter lift him in their arms. “He could use all the rest and TLC he can handle.” The High King nodded in agreement, taking hold of Edmund’s upper body. Together, he and his sisters escorted him back to the duke’s estate and piled him right into bed.  
      Hours passed as Edmund napped, trying to regain his strength. In the meantime, the three of them sat around the table on the balcony and reveled in their brother’s rescue.  
      “I hope he’s going to be alright” Lucy replied.  
      “I’m just glad he’s breathing” Peter said gratefully.  
      “I wonder what on earth happened” Susan pondered.  
      “What do you mean?” Lucy asked, tilting her head curiously. “We know what happened, Susan! He fell overboard and then washed up on the beach.”  
      “No, no, I don’t mean that” Susan replied. “I mean I wonder what happened during the between stages. Why he fell overboard and how he stayed relatively alive while he was there?”  
      “I thought he just fell overboard because of the storm” Lucy said.  
      Susan shook her head. “That’s a sound guess but there’s no logic to it” she replied. “If Edmund had gone overboard because of the storm, then I can assume he would’ve fallen over the other side of the ship. The side we saw him fall off of was tilted upwards when he fell over. He should’ve slid down the deck and into the sea from the side tilted down.”  
      “So then what happened?” the valiant inquired.  
      “I don’t know” the gentle replied. “It’s almost as if maybe he was somehow, I don’t know…pulled.”  
      “But by what?” asked Lucy. Peter’s face suddenly grew very pale.  
      “I think I might have an idea” he muttered, terror-stricken. All eyes fell on him with utmost intrigue, urging him to speak on. “When I was underwater searching for him, right before you pulled me up, I saw something down there. It started off as this blue light and then soon this figure formed in front of me. It was the strangest thing. I wanted to move closer to her, as if she was pulling me down to the bottom magnetically or something. You both pulled me back on board before I could do anything about it, but am I grateful you did.”  
      Susan and Lucy listened intently, chewing over his words. “What did it look like?” the valiant asked. Peter explained to her that it almost reminded him of the strange dolphins they saw earlier that day, with the interesting tails, but that he saw a woman’s face luring him nearer, as well.  
      “Your mind was probably just playing tricks on you, Peter” Susan replied haughtily. “Lack of oxygen can do that to your brain. The light was a hallucination, the creature was some sort of dolphin or fish, and the face was just from all of those terrible nightmares you’ve been having about Eilonwy.” Peter sat back in his seat and inhaled deeply. Her analysis made a great deal of sense, but something in him didn’t want to believe it. He swore he saw exactly what he did. Whether he was hallucinating or not, he stood by his memory.  
      “I guess the only way we’ll know what happened for sure is if we ask Ed” Lucy said affirmatively. Despite the discourse, Peter and Susan nodded in agreement. No matter what they thought, it was nothing compared to what Edmund said was true.  
      Once dinner had finished, Lucy gathered her leftovers onto a separate plate and said she was going to go give them to Edmund for when he woke up. Though they expected him to sleep for a few hours more, Peter and Susan agreed to accompany her just to check on their brother and ensure he was alright. Upon entry, however, they found that he had slowly began to regain consciousness. Lucy nearly dropped the plate as she rushed forward excitedly, wrapping Edmund in a giant bear hug.  
      “Morning, sleepyhead” Peter jested as he seated himself at the foot of the bed. “How’d you sleep?”  
      “I had the weirdest dream” Edmund groaned, squinting up at them tiredly. Susan dunked a washcloth in a small bowl of water, wrung the excess out, and dabbed at his head lightly. He sighed at the refreshing sensation, sinking deeper into the bed.  
      “What was the dream about?” Lucy asked, seating herself on the other side of the magnificent.  
      Edmund furrowed his brows a moment, trying to remember everything that had happened. Everything seemed so vivid in the midst of it all, but now that he was awake he felt the visions fading quickly from his memory. “I dreamed that I was pulled under the ocean by something– or someone– and dragged to this strange cave at the bottom of the sea. Someone kissed me and suddenly, I didn’t have to worry about holding my breath anymore. I was imprisoned down there, by some creature. God, she was beautiful. She had this gorgeous face like a pearl and this long, wavy hair the exact color of leaves in autumn. She wasn’t human, though. Her top half was, yeah, but her bottom half was like this weird fish. It didn’t make her less any beautiful, though. I may have been her prisoner but damn, I didn’t mind it at all.”  
      Lucy’s eyes suddenly brightened at the description. “A mermaid!” she exclaimed. “Just like in those stories Mum used to tell us before bed!”  
      Edmund nodded as the memories slowly returned to him. “Yeah…yeah, just like that, Lu.”  
      Susan turned to her older brother in disdain, certain that the saltwater must have gotten to his head. There was no other explanation behind such a bizarre tale. Peter didn’t seem to be of much assurance, however. A very unexpected expression painted his face, one of wonder and mutual understanding as if he had just taken a sip of a new drink he swore he had tasted once bfore, perhaps in a dream.  
      “You can’t possibly believe him, can you?” she asked him later on, tone accusatory.  
      “Honestly, I think I do” Peter replied. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.  
      “Peter, please, let’s just try to think logically here for one second” she begged, resting a hand on his forearm.  
      “Why? Are you saying you don’t think mermaids exist?” Peter asked, gently tugging his arm out of her grasp.  
      “How could I?” the gentle replied.  
      “Susan, you seem to forget there were mermaids at our coronation” the High King replied. Susan froze, trying to think back to the day Narnia became theirs. She recalled the sweet voices of some seaside choir during the reception but if those were the mermaids of Narnia, then they looked nothing like that which Edmund described. Before she could protest further, however, Peter had disappeared down the hall in a thoughtful daze. It was a lost cause.  
      Susan watched as the moonlight cast shadows across the ceiling, shifting silhouettes of tree branches and birds in flight. No matter how hard she tried, she could not sleep. She was too busy thinking, questioning whether she was the only sane one left. For all she knew, her brothers could be seriously ill. After all, saltwater consumption and lack of oxygen can do very strange things to otherwise sound and sensible people. Regardless, they needed help. Susan wasn’t well-versed in matters of health and wellness, but she did know someone who was. Making haste, she leapt from her bed and began scrawling out a brief letter detailing everything that had occurred. When she had finished, she stamped it shut and handed it to the island’s messenger. “Take this to Sir Aesop and Lady Nefyn of Cair Paravel, Narnia, if you please.”  
     The centaur and his daughter made haste to the island as soon as they received the queen’s letter, arriving in a matter of days. As the sun sat squarely overhead, Peter and Lucy relaxed upon the balcony as Edmund relayed his experience once more to them. The littlest Pevensie drew her knees close, resting her chin in her hands as she listened with great interest. The thought of real life mermaids enchanted her, with glimmering tails and beautiful long hair. She gazed out to the sea in hopes of perhaps spying one, as if they might swim straight out of a fairytale. Before the just could finish his story, however, the doors burst open and Susan stepped proudly into the scene.  
    “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything all too important” she began slyly, “but we have some guests I’m sure you’d all be very pleased to greet.” She swung her arm out in presentation as two very familiar faces appeared at once. Edmund’s heart leapt into his throat as Nefyn approached, a strange smile pasted upon her face. From certain angles, she appeared grateful to be reunited with her dear friend, but from others she seemed far more cunning as if she had some sort of ulterior motive for visiting.  
      “Sir Aesop! Miss Nefyn! What a lovely surprise!” Peter said uneasily, jumping to his feet to give the pair a proper greeting. Aesop simply stared back at them, stony-faced with displeasure.  
      “What, pray tell, is it about Galma that always leads you four to trouble?” he asked harshly. “It seems you require my services far more frequently here than anywhere else.” Blue eyes downcast, Peter recoiled a few steps as he tried to conjure an appropriate response. He was met with little luck.  
      Nefyn, however, was much more agreeable company. She sauntered to Edmund and wrapped her arms around him in a quick embrace before stamping her hooves lightly and asking, “What was it that you were telling your siblings about just now? I only heard bits and pieces of it.”  
      “Well…” Edmund said, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks burned bright red, guilt consuming him at the thought of speaking about this mermaid in front of Nefyn, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. There was just some quality about Nefyn that made him uncomfortable with speaking kindly of girls not bonded to him by blood. The centaurette, however, urged him to continue with great interest. He shuffled his feet a moment before sucking in a deep breath and explaining the situation once more in full for her. He tried not to focus on her reactions as he spoke, unsure if he really wanted to know her opinion.  
      As Nefyn listened, she grew wildly unnerved. She knew in a moment that Edmund’s tale was true. However, it couldn’t have just been any mermaid that he encountered and that scared her. While she knew Edmund was quite the magnet for trouble, she also knew of the dangers these beings– these _sirens_ – beheld. The young king was lucky he surfaced at all; so many who fall prey to a siren’s allure never return. The longer he spoke, the less cautious Edmund became until he was singing praises of the woman beneath the waves. With how fondly he spoke, concern was quickly accompanied by another emotion she didn’t dare speak of.  
      As darkness washed over the island, anxiety flew parallel over the gentle queen. Tying her robe at her waist, she tiptoed down the hall toward the centaurs’ chambers. The thought of disturbing them at such an hour terrified her, especially the elder centaur, but she knew this was far more important than sleep. After all, she was the queen. Any matters she concerned herself with were important. However, knowing this did not lessen her panic. After a gentle rap on the door, she was momentarily greeted by Aesop’s sullen face.  
      “I hope I haven’t woken you, sir” she began softly, knowing she very well did, “but I was hoping to speak with you about my brothers.” Aesop nodded once before her ushering her inside tiredly.  
      The gentle queen stepped lightly so as to not knock over the many potions and supplies crowding the room. Nefyn, hunched over a cart in the corner, glanced up from her project just as their guest slid into the nearest chair. Aesop shot a glare to his daughter, urging her to mind her business, before asking the queen, “What is your concern?”  
      “I wanted to ask if you had any new information about Peter and Edmund. You saw how they acted this afternoon, with all that talk of mermaids and such. Didn’t you find their behavior rather strange or concerning? Do you think they might have saltwater poisoning or something?” she questioned.  
      Aesop stared at her as if she had sprouted three heads before sighing and trotting to the other end of the room. “It is my understanding, my queen, that you lack some basic knowledge of the species of this country, nay this world?” he replied.  
      “You’re not saying you believe them, are you?” Susan exclaimed.  
      “No more than I believe your venture from another dimension through a common wardrobe” Aesop said sourly. “You doubt the existence of such aquatic creatures, and yet you fail to realize that many of the beings you so fervently doubt are, in fact, real. Mermaids are of no small danger and your brothers, the kings, are blessed to have survived encounters with such nasty beasts. Pray that they shall be spared of additional experience.”  
      Susan’s face turned ghostly white at Aesop’s words. Vivid memories of her father’s stories flashed through her mind, tales of stunning sea creatures whose angelic voices lured sailors to their deaths. She had never been very fond of mermaids and now that distaste grew tenfold. Glassy eyes glanced to the door, behind which her siblings were sure to be sleeping peacefully. Edmund had already faced so many close calls, each one straining her heart that much more. As she bid the centaurs goodnight, she shuffled back to her chamber uneasily. A sudden chill in the air forced her to tighten her robe and close all the windows. The view of the sea down below sent her stomach churning. Despite her fatigue, she knew sleep would be a losing battle. Regardless, she still tried.


	5. VOL 2, EP. 17: An Unexpected Guest

     “I hope you don’t mind how brief our visit has been" Peter said, sitting across from the Galman duke. Fresh morning air wafted across the balcony, bringing the brine of the sea with it. The gentle queen elected not to join the conversation. “Now that our brother is safe and sound, I think it’s time we moved on to our next destination.”

     "No trouble at all, your highness!” the duke exclaimed jovially. “You are welcome any time, for any length of time! I am just grateful King Edmund was returned to you unharmed.” The duke smiled upon the magnificent kindly, sending a warmth of spirit through the High King.  
      “The feelings are mutual” he replied with a smile. He was eternally grateful for the duke’s hospitality, especially at such a trying time, and made sure to make this known. However, behind closed doors, the High King grew weary. With such a drastic setback already, the promise of a vacation was growing grimmer by the second. A piece of him wanted nothing more than to just forget the whole thing and return home. He knew it could be done, certainly. After all, he was the High King. The world was at his command. But the sword he wielded was dual-edged. Cancelling the trip would relieve him, but break Lucy’s heart. This was all her idea and he certainly didn’t want to discourage her. So for now, he’d simply suck it up and manage for his sister’s sake. Perhaps some distance was what he needed anyways, regardless of what that meant.  
      The village below bustled with merchants and customers browsing through various wares. Cloaked in plain clothes, the Pevensies joined them inconspicuously in hopes of better acquainting themselves with their neighboring nation. It was one thing to sit high upon a hill and watch the world pass below, but there was something so much more invigorating about becoming a part of the crowd. They knew disguising themselves was unnecessary, that they were more than welcome to walk the streets in more regal attire, but they preferred not to make spectacles of themselves. Edmund had already become quite a spectacle on his own. They didn’t want to draw any more attention to themselves than necessary. Even in common attire, however, the royals were not totally unrecognizable. Many a villager approached them graciously, thanking them for their work during the plague. Lucy was especially praised, gifted many hugs and presents as thanks for her tireless devotion.  
      The merchants also overflowed with gratefulness, offering discounts and free items but the quartet humbly refused. They were far richer than those selling on the streets and didn’t believe they deserved to cheat such hardworking people out of a fair sale. As Peter paid for a bushel of exotic fruit that Lucy was eager to try, Edmund’s eyes wandered to the booths surrounding. Everything imagineable was on sale, from intricately designed carpets to fresh fruits and vegetables. The most alluring of all, he thought, was the artwork. While not as popular a purchase as groceries or housewares, what was offered was stunning. A beautiful abstract sculpture instantly captured the king’s attention, it’s colored glass glistening in the strong sunlight. As he inched nearer for a better view, something else caught his eye: the woman inspecting it. The hood of her dark cloak fell backward to reveal a familiar face, porcelain skin framed by waves of fiery red hair. He recognized her immediately.  
      “Ed, did you want some of this?” Peter asked as he divided up the fruit. He knew it was a stupid question, as his brother was always up for snacks. But when he turned around, Edmund was nowhere in sight.  
      “Not again!” Susan exclaimed. He had already drowned once this week. They didn’t need to lose him in yet another sea. She scanned the crowd for any sign of him, but all she saw were strangers. Lucy ducked into the crowd and weaved through the maze of people until she finally found him. A strange expression painted Edmund’s face as she watched him approach the woman with seemingly no regard for public safety, bumping into every villager he passed and even nearly flattened by a cart of rowdy chickens. Their squawking captured Peter and Susan’s attention, rushing forward to retrieve their daredevil brother.  
      They reached Edmund just as his mouth opened to speak, tugging him backwards and shooting scolding glances at him. “We’re terribly sorry for our brother, miss. He’s a little out of sorts today” Peter apologized. The woman smiled and erupted in a resounding laugh.  
      “It’s no trouble at all, sire” she replied. She spoke in such a strange accent that they couldn’t quite place, almost like a hybrid between Spanish and French. Susan filtered through all the countries they had visited for any idea of which she might be from. “Your brother is a very charming young man. I am honored to make his acquaintance.” The three nodded absently, a strange feeling beginning to take root, then bid the woman good day. Edmund, however, struggled in their grip.  
      “Wait! I never caught your name!” he exclaimed. Beads of sweat began forming on his brow, both from her presence and his protest.  
      A tempting smile touched her lips before she replied simply, “Gisèle.” Her name rolled off her tongue like a forbidden spell, sweet and symphonic. Edmund’s knees buckled at the sound of it. The further away Peter pulled him, the more panicked he became. He couldn’t stand to never see her again. In an act of desperation, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called to her.  
      “Come to dinner! At the mansion!”  
      His siblings froze. Shock coursed through their veins. Amid the crowd, Gisèle glanced over her shoulder with a crooked smile, waving goodbye with a sway of her hips, and then was swallowed up by the crowd. Edmund’s heart sank the moment she disappeared. The tension melted from his muscles, making his transport that much easier on the others.  
      “Why did you do that?” Peter scolded. “You can’t just invite people to dinner like that!” Something uneasy began to envelope him, a strange sensation akin to deja vu. Whatever it was, he wanted it gone and fast.  
      “I thought these sorts of things were social affairs! The kind where you get to know people” Edmund protested.  
      “Yeah, Ed, important people” Peter replied.  
      “I think she’s important!” Edmund shouted back.  
      “Ed, you barely know her!” the magnificent argued.  
      “Well, I would like to!” said the just.  
      “What makes her any more special than any other girl on the street, then? Maybe we should invite that woman there, or that old woman over there!”  
      “Because she isn’t just any woman. She’s the mermaid!”  
      At that, the three of them paused with mixed expressions. Susan’s eyes widened, officially convinced her brother had lost his mind. Lucy’s eyes brightened, excited at the concept. Peter, however, blinked and slapped his palm to his forehead, clenching his opposite fist.  
      “You think she’s the mermaid you saw when you went under” he said, more as a statement than a question. Edmund nodded definitively. “Alright, so say you’re right. Say she is this mermaid–”  
      “Peter!” Susan interrupted defiantly, but her brother raised a finger and begged her to just humor him for a moment.  
      “What are we going to do if she shows up?”  
      “We treat her like every other dinner guest: with respect!” Edmund exclaimed.  
      “And if she never comes?”  
      “Well…then, I don’t know.” Edmund didn’t want to think about that. She would show up. She had to show up. There was no reason for her not to. It was a free dinner in a beautiful mansion on a hill. How could anyone refuse? Still, the thought haunted him.  
      The duke took great measures to ensure the Pevensie’s last night in Galma was the most splendid yet. News of a special guest inspired him tenfold, demanding his chefs serve only the finest delicacies their land had to offer. It was a generous gesture, of course, but there was something about all of this that sincerely worried Susan.  
      “I’m not so sure about this, Pete” she whispered to her brother in private. “Ed’s gone completely mad!”  
      Peter rubbed the back of his neck with uncertainty. “I know what you mean, Su. You can’t exactly trust just anyone on the street. But…”  
      It was the _but_ that caught Susan off guard. She braced herself for whatever shitty excuse her brother was about to present, knowing that whatever he thought of would be in no way justified. Perhaps she even felt a little offended. She thought he agreed wholly on the matter. Any deviation was grounds for suspicion.  
      “I don’t think we should discredit Edmund for wanting to take someone in and get to know them” he replied. Susan arched a brow, urging him to continue. “I know we don’t know her, and that she’s off the streets, but I think she deserves a little charity. Besides, Edmund seems to like her a lot.”  
      “Oh, he does, does he?” she said, crossing her arms.  
      Peter nodded. “I think he sees something familiar in her. I can respect that. She does have this certain quality that makes me feel like I’ve seen her before.”  
      “Really?” the gentle asked. Again, Peter nodded.  
      “Looks like something out of a fever dream, I think. I know her face, but I can’t place where she’s from.”  
      “Now _you’ve_ gone mad” she scoffed.  
      “Have I, though?” he replied. “It’s not totally uncommon to recognize people you may have never met. Whose to say that’s not fate? For all we know, she might be his soulmate. They might be destined to be together. We certainly can’t step in the way of–”  
      “Peter, this is not about you” Susan interrupted. The High King paused a moment, mouth gaping, before he recoiled in offense. Susan knew where he was going with this and she didn’t like the outcome. This was a serious matter they had on their hands. In no way was it appropriate for Peter to project his own troubles and sappy romance upon their younger brother.  
      The magnificent stood frozen for a moment longer before dropping his shoulders and furrowing his brows. He knew what she thought: that everyone and everything revolved around Eilonwy. And maybe she did consume his every waking thought, and the desperation for her return coated every shallow breath, but that didn’t mean he wanted the same for Edmund. He never would wish this brand of pain upon even the worst of his enemies. All he wanted was for Ed to be happy. If Gisèle made him happy, then by all means. “You know, I thought you of all people would understand the concept of charity, but I guess I was wrong.”  
      Every muscle in Edmund’s body stood rigid as he seated himself for dinner. His eyes constantly darted between the clock and the large windows in the dining hall, awaiting his guest’s arrival. Susan’s heart broke for him, knowing he would almost certainly be disappointed, but at the same time she prayed for time to move quickly so that they could get the night over with and she would be relieved of her fear.  
      The grandfather clock chimed seven and the kitchen doors swung open to present dinner. Edmund slumped in his seat, Gisèle’s absence confirmed. He had held out hope long enough. She wasn’t coming. He would never see her again.  
      Nefyn could sense the young king’s distress, though for what, she had no idea. While the Pevensies had ventured into town, her father had kept her busy working. _Just because the kings and queens are on vacation, that does not mean we are_ , he had told her. She huffed a stray hair out of her face defiantly. It seemed like all she ever did anymore was work.  
      A crier abruptly burst into the hall, trumpets blaring as he announced the arrival of a privileged guest. A vision in silk floated forward, the likes of which Nefyn had never seen before. The just king rose like a ghost from his grave– slowly and dreamily– absorbing every last detail of her. Her autumnal hair swept up out of her face, the gradient of the silk and the way it draped across her streamlined body. Every square inch dripped in crystals. She certainly had no issue with appearing gaudy and, by the vast amount of cleavage she bore, gave no heed to modesty, either.  
      Edmund skated forward, kissing her hand and guiding her to the seat right beside his. Nefyn watched suspiciously, eyes locked on this strange new guest as she leaned over to ask Lucy, “Who is _that_?”  
      “That’s Edmund’s girlfriend!” she chuckled. All the color drained from her brother’s face as he paused amidst pushing in Gisèle’s chair. Gisèle, however, seemed completely unphased, giggling softly as she scooted herself in the rest of the way. Edmund drunkenly slipped back into his own and shot Lucy a warning glare.  
      Throughout the course of dinner, Gisèle proved to be an absolute delight. Peter and Susan pounded her with question after question but she answered each with as much grace and dignity as the old queens of Narnia themselves. They learned she was a merchant’s daughter from one of the Seven Isles, that she travelled frequently, and that she was something called a pescatarian. By dessert, she had blanketed the entire room with her charm. Lucy took great delight in learning all about her, hungry to know every little detail. The duke thought she was a wonderful addition to their little party. Nefyn, however, listened with a quiet disdain. The more she spoke, the less she trusted her, a slow burning flame enveloping her entire being from the inside.  
      “I take it you have friends here in Galma?” Peter asked with a sip of wine. Gisèle shook her head.  
      “Not particularly. I don’t think I stay in one place long enough to make many friends!” she replied. Though she laughed, it was clear there were undercurrents of discomfort and shame in her voice. She toyed with her fork, averting her eyes to the empty water glass before her. The clock chimed eight. “I think it’s time I took my leave, but I thank you endlessly for your kindness.”  
      “Y-you can’t leave! You just got here!” Edmund panicked. A sharp kick struck his shin from under the table. Peter glared.  
      “Where are you staying? We’ll arrange for an escort to take you home” the High King replied. Again, Gisèle averted her eyes shamefully.  
      “I’m afraid I have no place to stay…” she said dolefully.  
      The moment the words fell from her lips, Edmund shot up out of his seat. “You can stay here! We have plenty of space! You can have my room!” he shouted. All eyes fell on him, shocked.  
      “Edmund, darling, you’re far too kind” she replied, cupping his cheek tenderly. “But I’m afraid it would be against my moral compass to accept such a lavish offer. I do hope you understand, yes?”  
      “B-but…” he stammered. “You can’t just sleep in the streets!”  
      “Hundreds of people do it every day” Nefyn muttered, voice so low she was barely audible. Still, Gisèle glanced at her awkwardly, almost threateningly. The centaurette pursed her lips and crossed her arms. Who did she think she was, anyway?  
      The duke coughed into his fist and pushed himself out of his seat slowly. “Well, I’m not one to turn away a young woman in a time of need” he replied. “I presume I can make some arrangements for you to spend the night. No questions asked.” Despite his record generosity, it was clear that he, too, was unsure of himself in this regard. He called forth one of his servants, instructing them to find an empty guest room and to make Gisèle feel as comfortable as possible. Overexcited, Edmund insisted on joining them, claiming he wanted the best for his guest and would prefer she sleep someplace close to his own chambers. As they departed, the entire dining hall fell into a thoughtful silence.  
      “Alright, does anyone else think this girl is kind of, I don’t know, suspicious?” Nefyn finally said. Instinct tempted her to shrink back in response to her own voice, booming through the stillness. Aesop shot his daughter a look of dissatisfaction. He knew she knew better than to speak out of turn.  
     Susan bit her lower lip, index finger skating the rim of her glass. “I know this is going to sound absolutely insane but…but I actually quite enjoyed her company. There’s something about her that’s rather…enchanting.”  
      Lucy grinned, nodding. “I like her, too! She’s so pretty!”  
      “I have to admit, she is kind of pleasant” Peter replied. His cheeks tinged red, eyes locked on the napkin in his lap. Though they had only known each other for a day, Peter already knew he wouldn’t have minded if Edmund chose to spend the rest of his life with this girl. He admired her, and could already see her fitting in perfectly at Cair Paravel.  
      “Nobody else thinks she’s kind of strange?” Nefyn asked. All she received was a bunch of awkward glances and shaking heads in reply. Completely useless. Gisèle was hiding something, she was sure of it. Her explanations were all too formulaic and rehearsed. She wondered if anyone else had noticed her strange behavior at the table, too. The way she tore into her lobster, stirred salt into her drink.  
      “What island did she say she was from?” Lucy asked.  
      “It was some old, elegant name. Evanescence? Emmeline?” Susan pondered.  
      “Evangeline” Nefyn bluntly replied.  
      A grin spread across Lucy’s face, the dangerous kind signalling the birth of a brilliant idea. “Maybe we should take her with us! If she’s so far from home, we can sail there and return her. We’ve never been to Evangeline before, anyway.”  
      “Do we even know where it is? Or what it’s like?” Peter questioned. “I dont’ think I’ve ever heard of it before.”  
      A devious expression fell upon Nefyn’s face. She rose, planting her palms flat on the table. All eyes landed on her, expecting her to express something wildly important. “I have.”  
      Edmund’s palms grew clammy as he followed the servant and Gisèle down the hall. A part of him cursed the duke for sending someone along with them, as if they were children in need of supervision. A request for privacy rose into his throat, but he swallowed it back.  
      “Here we are, Miss” the man said, motioning toward the door of a vacant room. Gisèle peered inside, then thanked him humbly. “May I get you anything else, Miss?” he asked. Gisèle shook her head and bid him to take his leave. Once he was out of sight, she turned to Edmund and looked upon him fondly.  
      “Your home is very beautiful” she commented.  
      Edmund blushed, watching her finger skate along the wainscotting. “Well, this isn’t actually my home. It’s the duke’s. I’m just a visitor.”  
      “Oh? Then where is your home?” she asked.  
      “In Narnia.”  
      A strange expression flickered upon her face, one that Edmund couldn’t quite decipher. “And you live there with the others?”  
      Edmund nodded. “In the castle, on the shore.”  
      “You are the king” she declared definitively.  
      “Just king, though. My brother Peter’s the High King.”  
      “And the two women?”  
      “My sisters, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy.”  
      “Not the High Queen?”  
      “No, not the High Queen. That title is reserved for the wife of the High King.”  
      “Your brother is married then.”  
      A swell of discomfort washed over him at the direction this was going. The last thing he wanted was for Gisèle to pursue an interest in Peter. Clasping his hands behind his back, he slowly replied, “No…”  
      Gisèle laughed, sensing his concern. “He must be a very fine king indeed to have devoted so much time to his country rather than a wife. I hope his brother is not nearly as prudent.” Relief swept over Edmund’s face, muscles relaxing. She rested a cool hand upon his shoulder and his entire body ignited.  
      “Well, I-I don’t think I am” he stammered.  
      “If I may be so bold, I don’t think you are, either” she said. They chuckled before slipping into a profound silence, their unspoken words hanging in the air. Every second, Gisèle inched closer until her warm breath flushed against his neck. His hands itched and his legs grew weak. There was something about this that felt unclean, forbidden. His mind flashed back to the White Witch and her Turkish delight. She ran a hand up his arm and leaned in close, and Edmund almost expected her to kiss him. His heart leapt into his throat. She eyed his lips. Licking her own, she then asked, “Where might the bathroom be?”  
      After so much build up, Edmund had scarcely expected such a query. He stumbled over his words before offering to guide her there himself, kicking himself for thinking she would ever do such a thing in the first place. She followed close behind, hands clasped in front of her, steps quick and purposeful. When they arrived, she thanked him and then slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. _So much for that._  
      The young king lingered a moment, hearing the light thud of her clothes hitting the floor and the rush of running water. Arousing visions clouded his mind. He shoved them away as quickly as they came. With a deep breath, he ran back to the dining hall before he could let himself make a mistake.  
     “It’s such a lovely night” Lucy sighed, resting her chin in her hands. In the meantime, the party had migrated to the balcony. The air was too fresh and the skies were too clear to not take advantage of.  
      Susan agreed, but regretted her inability to fully enjoy it. Her mind was troubled, and she couldn’t halt the unending thoughts. Aesop had interrupted his daughter right before she could reach the meat of her speech. He said that young healers have no business speaking of politics and the like, that it was not her place to pry. Even without making her full point, however, something in her words jarred them from a dream they didn’t realize they were involved in. Suddenly, everything seemed a little more clear and a little more concerning. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. If only they had gotten more information, but in her frustration, Nefyn stormed out of the room and hadn’t been seen since.  
      “And what a lovely night it is, indeed” the duke commented, patting Peter on the back heartily. “If you ask me, this is the kind of night made for lovers. Full moon, not a cloud in the sky.” Peter squirmed beneath his suggestive eye, shrugging out from under his touch.  
      “It’s not always about love” he muttered.  
      “What’s this, you say? Didn’t you have a girl last you were here?” the duke questioned. “What was her name? Eleanor? Alessandra?”  
      “Eilonwy.”  
      “Yes! Eilonwy! You two seemed very fond of each other. I hope all is well with you both. Wherever is she, anyhow?” Ideally, the duke envisioned her happily at home, a ring on her finger and in highly delicate condition. His only offense was not being invited to the wedding, but it was a matter he was willing to overlook.  
      “Gone” Peter said bluntly. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about.  
      “Gone?” the duke repeated. “Gone where?”  
      “That’s just the thing, sir” Lucy stepped in. “We don’t know.”  
      A troubled expression crossed the duke’s face. He opened his mouth to ask for elaboration but Peter quickly cut him off. “Eilonwy’s gone and we have no idea where she is. We doubt she’s ever going to come back so we’ve given up hope and decided to drop the subject altogether. She never belonged in Cair Paravel anyway.”  
      There was a harshness in the High King’s tone that even his sisters hadn’t expected. But Peter was tired of repeating the explanation. It seemed like everywhere he went, someone was always asking questions. It was almost as if they were automatically conjoined, Eilonwy and he, treated like a package deal: always together so that when apart, the universe felt off-kilter and strange. Before any more could be discussed of the subject, Edmund sauntered into the scene.  
      “There you are, Edmund!” Lucy exclaimed. “We almost thought you got flushed down the toilet!”  
      “Unfortunately not” he muttered. He elbowed his way to the railing and looked out upon the vast sea. His dewy face shimmered in the moonlight, hands trembling at his sides.  
      “Ed, are you alright? You look like you’re going to be sick” Susan commented, resting the back of her hand to his forehead. “What’s gotten into you?”  
      “I’m fine. Really” he protested. “Just tired, that’s all.”  
      Susan pursed her lips, unconvinced, but before she could say more, Peter stepped forward. “Ed, we need to talk with you” he said, motioning for his brother to sit. Edmund obliged. Peter sucked in a breath. “To make this brief, we’re worried about you.”  
      “Worried? Why?” he asked.  
      “You’ve been acting so strange since the…incident” Susan replied, skirting around her words.  
      “We’ve been thinking a lot lately, and we’re not so sure that Gisèle is the greatest influence on you, either” Peter continued. At this, a look of pure disgust crossed Edmund’s face. “Just listen to us for a minute, alright? I know you think you saw her when you went under, and that she’s this fantastical mermaid or something, but you’ve seen the mermaids at Cair Paravel. They look nothing like this girl. How do you know we can trust her? I just don’t know if all of this is a very good idea.”  
      Edmund remained silent for a moment, grimacing back at his siblings. “You heard what she said at dinner: she’s poor. She has no place to stay. Are you really willing to cast some homeless woman out for the sake of your own fear? There’s nothing wrong with Gisèle! Regardless of whether I saw her down there or not, that was a sign. I was meant to meet her. We were meant to cross paths. She makes me happy, and I to her, so I can’t see why you have to criminalize this!” he shouted.  
      “Ed, we just–” Susan began, but her brother interrupted again before she could finish.  
      “And besides, when you all met Eilonwy, she was poor and had no place to go either but you lot accepted her into the group perfectly fine! So why can’t you give Gisèle the same treatment?”  
      “Hey!” Peter shouted, face reddening. “That was completely different! You weren’t there, you don’t know!”  
      “Peter, please” Susan murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder, but the High King shoved it off.  
      “I’ve made my point, Pete. I’m not backing down. Gisèle is harmless, and I refuse to believe otherwise” Edmund protested. He stood on tiptoes to meet Peter’s face, staring at him with cold eyes before knocking over the garden chair and storming back inside.  
      Truthfully, Edmund was beyond belief. He expected a little hesitance but this? This was out of control. He couldn’t fathom how his siblings could possibly be so unwelcoming. They were just too cynical. They had no compassion. They had no right.  
      With clenched fists, Edmund stormed toward his chamber determined to avoid the others at all costs. His plan was quickly foiled, however, by a most curious diversion. A sliver of light sliced through the hall, enveloped in an alluring melody. The just cocked his head to the side, inching closer. His palms sweated as he slowly peeked through the crack in the doorway. The bathroom was bathed in moonlight but with his vision obstructed, he could only see bits and pieces of the scene. Red hair cascaded over the edge of the tub, a lazy hand grazing the marble floors. A pile of fabric sat crumpled at the base of the sink.  
      “Come to me, my errant king! My bold little boy, my noble king” a lyrical voice called. Edmund immediately stepped forward and slipped inside.  
      He had never seen a naked woman before, but he knew this was not typical. Gisèle lounged in the porcelain tub, her face and skin shimmering wet. Locks of hair censored her bare breasts. From the waist upward, she appeared how one might expect but at her hip bones, the flesh faded into a cool blue and her legs joined together as one. A massive fin flopped over the side of the clawfoot, the long tendrils on either end dangling to the floor. She hummed softly, dreamily, running a golden comb through her hair.  
      “Darling, you seem stunned” she cooed. “Come closer, sit with me a while. Please.”  
      Edmund nodded absently and did as he was told. He knelt beside her, trying to fill as little space as possible. His eyes remained locked on the strange tail she had sprouted. He wanted to speak, but words failed him. Every time he tried, he got nothing but incomprehensible babbling. She wrinkled her nose when she laughed and rested a finger upon his lips to quiet him.  
      “You act as if we haven’t met this way before” she jested.  
      “I knew it!” Edmund gasped. “I knew that was you!”  
      “Who else might it be, dear?” Gisèle asked.  
      “My brother and sisters refused to believe you were real but you are!” he exclaimed. The young king erupted with happiness. He wanted to run and scream and more than anything, to shove this in his sibling’s faces. They deserved to be patronized. It was only fair. The siren could tell he was about to explode, however, and grasped his hand on the side of the tub desperately.  
      “You mustn’t say a word of this, my love!” she whispered. “This is not a public affair. My circumstances are bleak, and if anyone was to find out about this, I would surely be done for. You don’t want to cause my downfall, do you?” Edmund gazed at her with wide eyes, shaking his head. “I hoped not” she smiled, drawing him nearer.  
      “You know, I’ve never met a mermaid before. Or at least not a real one” he said.  
      “Do you not have mermaids in Narnia?” Gisèle questioned.  
      “No, no, we do. But none like you” Edmund replied.  
      “Oh?” she replied. “What are they like in your country?”  
      “Well, for starters, they’re a lot more fish than human. They have gills, and their entire bodies are scaly and blue. They’ve got big, googly eyes and they open and close their mouths all the time, which makes them look kind of stupid. And they can’t wander onto land whenever they feel like it.”  
      Gisèle gazed upon him with disdain, as if she felt sorry for the sad excuses for mermaids that he knew of. “Well, perhaps one day I can take you to my homeland and show you what a real mermaid cove looks like.”  
      “Really? I would love that! You know, we can go right now! Or, tomorrow, I mean. My brother and sisters and I are leaving for another island in the morning, and you’re more than welcome to come with us if you’d like! We can take you home!” Edmund rambled.  
      His friend furrowed her brows and shook her lips. “What did I tell you about keeping quiet?” she whined. The young king’s face blushed, muttering a quiet sorry. They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments afterward, Edmund unsure of what else to say. Before he could do anything, however, Gisèle suddenly groaned and dunked her head underwater, air bubbles surfacing from her mouth. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets and slapped her fin against the floor.  
      “A-are you alright…?” Edmund asked. Her outburst made him nervous, and he didn’t know what was wrong or what to do to make things better.  
      She returned to the surface and leaned against the back of the tub, shaking her head. “Everything’s fine, I just…I hate being forced to keep so many secrets.”  
      “Wait, what do you mean by forced?” Edmund asked. “Whose forcing you?” The young king suddenly grew defensive. If someone was doing her wrong, he needed to know. He felt obligated to protect her.  
      “It’s my father” she sighed. “He’s not really a poor merchant, but a nobleman. He rules the lordship of Evangeline, or it’s undersea regime.”  
      “So that makes you nobility then” Edmund concluded.  
      Gisèle nodded sadly. “A noble without a limpet to her name.”  
      “Limpet?”  
      “Our currency. You see, the merchant part was a lie but the poverty is all too true. My father has gone bankrupt and without help, our community shall surely perish. Father has grown cruel in his distress, fearing what shall become of him. I was meant to marry rich to save our land but fate was not so kind. He banished me but I hold no ill will toward him. I took advantage of my punishment to travel far and wide, venturing on land to sing in the streets hoping to earn some spare change. I assume that if I can earn some money, it will redeem me of my transgressions and my father will accept me back into his home with open arms and our kingdom will be saved. It’s the least I can do, though I can’t say I’ve been very successful. It’s quite a tragedy, indeed.”  
      Edmund listened intently, his heart breaking for her. “Well, maybe Narnia can help. We have plenty of money. I’m sure if I just spoke to my siblings, they’d understand” he exclaimed.  
      “Oh, Edmund, my dear, you’re far too kind” Gisèle replied, cupping his cheek. She looked upon him with such gentle affection, Edmund couldn’t help but melt. “You are truly too kind to me, but I couldn’t possibly accept. Your money would do me no good anyhow. But you are really too sweet, my love. So sweet, and so kind…”  
      Edmund’s eyes grew heavy as he nuzzled her palm, her thumb caressing his cheek. A dreamy smile touched his lips, whispering, “But I want to help you, even if it’s the last thing I do.”  
      Endeared, she guided him closer and rested her forehead against his. “Edmund, my love, you must be my only friend in the world” she whispered back. “Truly, you are the kindest king I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. So gentle, and generous, and sweet…”  
      The waves lapped diligently against the shore, the full moon glowing overhead. Nefyn stamped the sand in frustration, desperate to scream but not wanting to draw attention to herself. Everyone had no doubt retired to their rooms by now, and the last thing she needed was to wake them and face their scorn. Or at least that of her father. He truly perplexed her. Why would he force her to suppress the truth? Especially when the kings and queens lives were at stake. This was a serious matter and she saw no point in keeping secrets. But she was tired, and it was late. Nothing else could be done for the rest of the night, so she concluded that there was no point in worrying further. Whatever she was to do, it would have to wait until morning. For now, she resolved to sleep, or at least try to.  
      As she reached the top of the stairs, a strange tune immediately captured her attention. She was careful not to make too much noise as she inched nearer. She pressed her ear against the bathroom door, straining to comprehend the music.  
_My dear king_  
_Young one so bold_  
_You’re worth your weight_  
_In silver and gold_  
_Not even all the jewels in the world_  
_Could compare to your kindness_  
_Like the rarest of pearls._  
_Sing me your praises_  
_Or your sorrows, your fears_  
_And I will kiss away_  
_Your saltwater tears_  
_Bring me your fortunes_  
_And give me your hand_  
_Sing me your songs_  
_Draw masterpieces in the sand…_  
      Nefyn recognized the voice immediately. She carefully peered closer hoping to catch a glimpse of the scene, of the proof she knew she needed, but her heart sank the second she got what she wanted. First there was Gisèle, her voice haunting and clear. Then she saw him, her dearest friend in the world, his face mere inches from this siren’s. She gasped, jumping back and pressing against the wall desperate to disappear. Being found was not her concern.  
      Rushing down the hall, she dove into her own chamber and hid beneath her blankets, burying her face within the lumps of her pillow. Her heart pounded against her chest, her mind whirling. She reminded herself that this was exactly what she wanted, that she should feel proud that she was right all along, but truthfully nothing felt worse than this. A rancid taste filled her mouth as she replayed the scene over and over in her head. And all of this could’ve simply been avoided if her father had just let her speak. Now, her dearest friend in the world was in grave danger and she had no idea what to do about it. She needed to speak to someone lest she explode. Guzzling the glass of water on her bedside table, she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and snuck into the hallway to find the only other person who she was certain would listen to her.    
      The bathroom door slowly creaked open and a young boy shuffled out into the hall. Dazed, he disappeared into the darkness. The tub drained. The lights flickered. A robed figure leaned in the doorway, running a golden comb through her fiery hair. Her ears picked up the sound of frantic hoofs and chatter and a sick satisfaction spread across her chest.  
      “Well, I guess I’m going to have to dispose of more than just Edmund now.”


	6. VOL 2, EP. 18: My Jolly Sailor Bold

      Midnight blanketed the island, nothing but the stars and moon overhead to provide their light. Peter rolled to his side, restless. All he could think about was Eilonwy, about what Edmund had said and the duke’s inquiries, and more importantly about whatever happened to her. Later that night, he had approached the High King claiming he meant no disrespect nor was it his aim to suffer him on what was such a sensitive subject. Peter pasted on a fake smile and said it was alright, just to avoid conflict. He didn’t need his personal life interfering with work. Still, Eilonwy heavily occupied his mind. The duke’s questions rang in his head, echoing his own. Where had she gone? What was she doing? Was she happy? Was she successful? Was she safe? She knew the woods like the back of her hand, the landscape imprinted into her very soul, but dangers were still afoot. She could’ve just as easily been apprehended by a pack of wolves or a herd of giants from the north. He despised not knowing.  
     As he laid there, a series of bumps and thumps stirred him from his thoughts. With brows furrowed, he slowly rose and crept toward the door, stealing his sword as he went. Maybe he was just paranoid but he didn’t want to take any chances. He quickly discerned the source of the sound was from Susan’s chamber and a string of worst case scenarios flickered through his head. Peering inside, he caught sight of a dark figure rummaging through drawers, pocketing fine jewelry and gold. A large burlap sack sat at their side. Peter squinted into the darkness to try and make out a face, his breath hitching when the shapes finally began to make sense. _Edmund._  
      He wanted to charge forth and apprehend his brother, but he held back. There was something in his movements, something in his demeanor, that wasn’t quite right. He was too rigid, too automatic, eyes glazed over and transfixed as if he was under some sort of spell. Peter watched him filter through every drawer and shelf until he had gathered nearly every morsel of luxury Susan owned. He then lugged the sack away with him like Father Christmas on his midnight rounds. The High King ducked back into his own chambers, eavesdropping through a slit in the doorway as Edmund disappeared down the dark hall. As soon as he was out of sight, Peter rushed to Susan’s side.  
      “What is all the fuss about?” she groaned. “Whatever this is, could it not have waited until morning?”  
      “I’m afraid not, Su” he replied, voice laced with concern.  
      “Why? What is it?” she asked slowly, sitting up.  
      “It’s Edmund.”  
      Over the course of the next few minutes, Peter relayed what he had seen in great detail. Shock, anger, pain, and worry all flickered across Susan’s face at his account, finally burying her face in her hands and shaking her head desperately.  
      “This is a disaster” she cried.  
      “I know” Peter sighed. “I honestly regret ever coming on this trip in the first place after all this.”  
      “But Lucy…” Susan replied. Just as she spoke, another door creaked open nearby. Peter took his sister’s hand and scurried to take a peek as dmund crept into the valiant’s chamber.  
      “Grab your things” Peter commanded. “We’re doing something about this right now.” As he retrieved his sword, Susan gathered her bow and quiver, then they slowly prepared to apprehend their brother once and for all.  
      “Alright, your majesty, we have to remain very quiet” Nefyn whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. Lucy nodded, mimicking her friend, as they huddled close at the mouth of the hall. A tinge of happiness pressed against the centaurette’s chest– to think, she would find such a loyal friend in the little queen. When Nefyn approached her with concern, Lucy immediately invited her into her room and listened intently to her fears. She hadn’t expected the young queen to be so proactive as she was, for she immediately began untangling a master plan for them to officially end this madness and save their brother and friend.  
      Footsteps echoed down the hall. Nefyn’s back shot ramrod straight. This is it, she thought to herself. _Now or never._ She gave Lucy their signal. The valiant nodded and rushed to the other side of the archway. A large sheet of sheer fabric swept across the corridor between them. The plan was simple: set a basic trap, capture the felon, and make him talk.  
      Susan gripped her bow tightly as she followed her brother toward the stairs. She hated this, the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the uncertainty filling her brain. Peter pressed a finger to his lips, emphasizing the importance of silence, as he kept his hand firmly on his own weapon.  
     Two hazy figures approached Nefyn and Lucy in the dark, a man and a woman– no doubt Edmund and Gisèle. The centaur sucked in a deep breath, preparing for the charge. The minute they were close enough, she released a glorious battle cry and tangled the pair in their trap.  
      Shouts of shock and surprise echoed from their captives, squirming in the confines of the sheet. “We know what you did!” Nefyn shouted. “And we don’t plan to let your crimes go unnoticed!”  
      “Get off me!” he shot back.  
      “You’re not getting away that easy!” the centaurette replied.  
      “By order of your king, I command you to unhand me!”  
      Lucy pursed her lips. “Is that you or the magic talking?”  
      “What magic?” his companion’s voice interrupted.  
      “Like you don’t know!” Nefyn replied.  
      “Lucy, Nefyn, I swear–” he began, but Lucy jumped in before he could finish his sentence.  
      “Ed, I don’t want to do this but you’ve left us no choice!”  
      A low, throaty growl erupted from deep within his chest. “By order of your _High King_ , I command you again, unhand me! Unhand us!” he shouted. And then it became very clear that they had captured the wrong Pevensie. Nefyn’s knees weakened as she felt for a match in her belt’s pouch and lit the nearest candle. Cursing under her breath, she stamped her hooves against the marble and shook her head wildly.  
      “What are you two doing out here?” Lucy asked, unwrapping her brother and sister.  
      “We should be asking the same of you!” Susan replied.  
      “Nefyn came to me with some concerns about Edmund, and I decided we ought to take matters into our own hands” Lucy explained. “And you?”  
      “I caught Edmund stealing from Susan’s drawers so once he was gone, I told her about it and we decided we ought to do something about it, too” Peter explained.  
      “Well, if we’re going to stage an intervention, we might as well do it all together” Susan replied.  
      “If we can even find Edmund first” Nefyn said sourly. The four of them stood in a long, dwelling moment of silence. If Nefyn and Lucy hadn’t caught him, and Peter and Susan lost track of him, then where on earth had Edmund gone?“  
      "It’s not like he could’ve just disappeared out of thing air” Lucy said in hushed tones, finally breaking the silence.  
      “As far as we know” Susan added hopelessly. She had been queen in this country for roughly a year and yet Narnia was still finding ways to shock and amaze her. By now, she didn’t discredit the possibility of anything.  
      “Well, he had to have gone somewhere” Lucy argued silently.  
      Puzzle pieces began to reunite in Peter’s mind until finally, he understood what they needed to do. “Lucy, you’re brilliant!” he exclaimed. Before they could ask for elaboration, he grabbed his baby sister’s hand and tugged her down the stairs. Everyone else followed suit.  
      “Peter, where are we going?” Susan called after him, struggling to keep up. He could barely spare enough breath to answer. They followed him all the way to the beaches where, there on the shoreline, stood Edmund. They skidded to a halt, watching him a moment as he broke left and approached a strange, scraggly shape in the distance. The notes of a long-forgotten song lingered in the air.  
      A hard lump collectively formed in everyone’s stomachs as they trekked nearer. It was the same feeling you get when you’re approaching the end of a summer holiday, burdened with the knowledge that soon you’ll be forced to return to school and all the fun will be replaced with homework and pesky exams. The closer to the cave they grew, the more Nefyn began to notice its intricate little details and was quickly overcome with a rush of recognition. She had heard many a legend about this place, none with very kind endings. Her body went numb. She glanced over her shoulder to the mansion one last time, and then entered after everyone else.  
      Inside the cave was dark and tight, and the quartet had to huddle close together and duck down low in order to fit. This was one instance in which Lucy was rather fond of being so short, at least compared to everyone else here. Phantom lights danced in their periphery, guiding them deeper into the abyss. Violent waves sloshed down the cave’s center, a reminder of the danger of their mission and how easily disposable they all were. They hugged the jagged wall tightly and prayed for a miracle.  
      “Where are we going?” Lucy whispered. The deeper they went, the brighter those lights seemed to become. A haunting melody echoed through the air.  
      “I wish I knew” Peter murmured. Fear enveloped him, growing anxious in the narrow, unfamiliar pathways. A part of him wondered if there was even an end. A sharp fin skated along the surface of the water beside them. _Dammit, Edmund._  
      Finally, the tunnel broke open to reveal a spacious cove. The full moon was clear overhead through an erosion in the rock, bathing everything in it’s ethereal glow. Across the raging chasm sat Gisèle, eyes alight and legs fused to form a long, scaly fin. Peter’s cheeks immediately blushed, and in the back of his mind he saw why Edmund was so magnetized toward her. There was this alien beauty about her, stunning in her own fantastical way. The minute the thought came, he shoved it away and instantly felt guilty.  
      Edmund sloshed onto the rocky ledge, sack in tow, pupils dilated like a drug addict on a record high. “I knew I could count on you, darling” Gisèle cooed, luring him nearer. She skated a finger along his jaw, gazing into his eyes with a hungry tenderness.  
      Peter could scarcely contain himself. Sword drawn, he lunged forward through the shallows. “Get away from him!”  
      Gisèle straightened her back and cocked a brow, eyeing them one by one. “What’s this?” she asked in exaggerated surprise. “I didn’t know we were having a party!”  
      “Shut up! Just give us our brother back!” Peter demanded.  
      “What’s to give?” she asked. “He came here all on his own. Isn’t that right, Ed darling?” The just nodded slowly, methodically, like a robot. In that moment, Peter hated her. He really, truly hated her. The way she tilted her head to the side, lips pouting, feigning innocence. He hated her so goddamn much.  
      Susan followed quickly after, swimming diligently across the roaring ravine to snatch Edmund’s arm and lock him in place. It was times like these when she was grateful for her prized swim team membership. Lucy started toward the others but Nefyn pulled her back, shaking her head authoritatively. This was not Lucy’s battle, and Nefyn was determined to minimize the number of casualties as best she could.  
      Gisèle’s eyes narrowed down the tip of Peter’s blade, following the trail of steel up to his eyes. Cold, hard, and unforgiving. He would be tough to crack, but it wasn’t impossible. After all, everyone had a weakness.  
      “My dear Peter, I never noticed how enchanting your eyes were before” she sighed. “So dreamy…” Peter’s blade slowly lowered. His gaze lost some of his edge. “A king so noble as you, I can’t believe I never knew. But standing before me, now I see that you’re part of a greater excellency” she chanted. She curled her fingers toward herself, drawing him nearer. Captivated, he obliged. There was a sense of enchantment about her that sparked his own curiosity, something he had never noticed in her before. A part of him even went so far as to curse Edmund for finding her first.  
      Susan had only looked away for a minute when Peter began to fall into the siren’s trap. Eyes wide, she dropped Edmund’s wrist and readied her bow. “Peter, don’t listen to her!” she shouted, releasing her arrow slightly off target.  
      Gisèle ducked, breaking her gaze on the High King. Peter stumbled, newly refreshed, rubbing his temples and gasping for breath. Whipping back around to face her prisoners, Gisèle’s eyes turned stark white, skin tinting blue especially around her tightened fists. “Oh, you don’t want to do that” she warned, voice echoing as if she was many people in one. A low snarl escaped her throat as she drew her body completely up onto the rock and dragged herself toward her opponents. Blasts of icy foam erupted from the sea, fellow sirens bursting forth to tangle Nefyn and Lucy in fishnets and drag them down into the menacing waters.  
      “What did you do to them?” Susan shouted, stalking forward.  
      “We’re holding them ransom, silly!” Gisèle replied. “We can’t possibly let you leave without something for ourselves.”  
      “And what exactly do you plan to do with them?” Peter demanded.  
      “Oh, I’m sorry, Peter, but I’m afraid I can’t say. The mystery is half the fun!” she laughed.  
      The valiant struggled to hold her breath as Gisèle’s minions tugged her and Nefyn deeper into the murky depths. She kicked and punched as she tried to unfasten her dagger and cut at the nets, her heart racing. Nefyn clung to her, certain now that this was the end. There was no going back. She was most definitely going to die. Her only regret was that she failed in restoring her dearest friend. She hoped Edmund could find it in his heart to forgive her. If they could even disenchant him, that is.  
      Peter growled and lunged forward, prepared to stab Gisèle through the heart like she deserved. She was quick, though, and dove out of the way before he could strike, hissing violently and digging her nails into the rocky terrain. The High King released another growl, pouncing. This time, he was successful. Gisèle squirmed underneath his iron grip, screeching violently as he pressed his blade to her neck.  
      “Let her go!” Edmund shouted, rushing forward. “She didn’t do anything wrong! Leave her alone!”  
      Panicked, Susan spun around to clutch Edmund’s shoulders tight, shouting at him and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Edmund, snap out of it! This isn’t right!”  
      “No! She did nothing wrong! Let her go!” he protested.  
      “Ed, she’s trying to kill us! You have to understand! Please!” Susan begged. “Peter’s at wit’s end, Lucy and Nefyn are ten feet underwater, and you don’t seem to care! We’re in grave danger and it’s all your fault! Now snap out of it!”  
      Edmund glared up at his sister, the gentle queen, eyes harsh and wild, before breaking free of her grip. The force sent them both tumbling, Susan nearly sliding over the edge and into the water herself. Upon connecting to the ground, a sharp shard of rock struck Edmund’s forehead. Blood trickled down to his jaw as he whimpered, blinking. His vision blurred, his breathing labored. Nothing felt quite right. When he finally refocused, all he saw was chaos.  
      Lucy sprung from the sea like a martyr, great white caps surrounding as she gulped air and clamored back onto the shore. Edmund stumbled toward her, head spinning. “Where’s Nefyn?” he gasped. Lucy searched his face for validity, for some semblance of the real Edmund peeking through. The desperation on his face said it all. Lucy lowered her eyes in shame.  
      A thousand volts of panic coursed through Edmund’s veins as he recounted all the things he had done. The sack of expensive goods sat in the corner of his eye, tempting him. Without a word, he dug through the bag for the shiniest objects he could find, stuffed them into his tunic, and then dove below the surface. Susan cried out, rushing to her feet. By now, she was convinced that all hope was lost. Edmund was never coming back. Her little sister placed a comforting hand upon her arm, though, and the expression on her face began to fill Susan with a mild sense of hope.  
      Gisèle was a powerful opponent and Peter quickly found himself growing weary against her force. A smirk touched her lips. “Ready to surrender yet, your majesty?”  
      “Not if you don’t first” he huffed back. Sweat beaded on his brow. His chest tightened with each lunge and parry.  
      “We have to do something!” Lucy exclaimed to Susan.  
      “Like what?” she replied. She hated to see Peter exhaust himself like this but at the same time, she trusted he knew what he was doing. If he didn’t, Aslan never would’ve elected him as head of his army in the Battle of Beruna. Besides, she didn’t feel it was necessary to intervene into battles that weren’t really hers. She preferred not to fight if she didn’t have to.  
      A series of thoughts rushed through Lucy’s head before a grin flashed upon her face, the sign of a brilliant idea. She rushed to the water’s edge and dug her hand deep into the depths, searching for any semblance of the fishing net that may have been left behind. As she did so, Edmund surfaced and gasped for help as he struggled back to shore, an unconscious Nefyn in tow. Susan gathered her skirts and leapt into the sea, helping them to the safer shore.  
      “Stay put and don’t move a muscle” she instructed. Edmund had done enough already. She wanted to keep him as safe as possible now that she had him restored to normal. She untangled the leftover net wrapped around Nefyn’s body and carried it back to her sister dutifully.  
      Edmund pressed his ear to Nefyn’s chest, desperate for the sound of a heartbeat. Nothing. His hands trembled as he clasped one on top of the other and began pumping like how he swore he remembered being taught so long ago. After a few minutes, his friend’s body shook with the force of her coughs, fluid spouting from her mouth and dribbling down her chin. The just gasped, tears welling in his eyes, as he cupped her cheek and cradled her in his arms.  
      “N-Nefyn?! Can you hear me?!” he asked. She squinted up at him, slowly raising a hand to touch his face, as if she feared he wasn’t real. When she discovered he was, in fact, tangible, she presently slapped him in the forearm as hard as she could manage. “What was that for?!”  
      “For nearly killing me, you ass!” she croaked. Though her tone was harsh, there was a vague undercurrent of optimism flowing through it that convinced Edmund she still forgave him.  
      Susan gripped the fishnet tightly, looking with uncertainty upon her sister. “Are you sure this is going to work?” she asked.  
      “Fishermen do it all the time!” Lucy assured. She was so confident and brave. It was an aspect that Susan, quite frankly, was a little envious of. But now was not the time to dwell on inferiority.  
      On the count of three, Lucy shouted and charged forward, dragging Susan along. Peter leapt out of the way, letting his sisters entangle the mermaid in their trap. Gisèle hissed and clawed but was ultimately defeated at the hands of every fish’s worst enemy. Exhausted, Peter leaned against the cave’s wall to wipe his brow and catch his breath.  
      “You think a little net will stop me?!” Gisèle shrieked.  
      “No, but I know one thing that will” a voice then called from behind. Edmund hoisted himself out of the sea and stepped forward, sword drawn. His siblings and friend watched with bated breath.  
      “Edmund, you little wretch!” Gisèle screamed. The just king knelt beside her, mere inches from the mermaid’s face. She wanted to reach out and strangle him, but her arms were tied up and she couldn’t break the bonds. “I thought we had an agreement! I thought what we had was special!”  
      “No, what _we_ have is special” Edmund replied, glancing over his shoulder to Nefyn. Gisèle’s minions hissed as they crept toward her, determined to pull her back down again. The centaurette silently begged for help, too weak to fight back. Susan drew her arrows and shot each one point blank straight through the heart, watching them shrivel and disintegrate into sea foam. “What you and I had?” Edmund continued, “That was petty and stupid. You took advantage of me, and you put my family in danger, and I can’t let you get away with that.”  
      “What are you going to do, then?” she hissed. “Kill me?”  
      Edmund furrowed his brows. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Gisèle” he muttered. Peter balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his flesh with anxiety. He had never seen Edmund kill someone before. It didn’t seem characteristic. He always thought his brother was more merciful than that.  
      Inhaling, Edmund rose and lifted his sword high above his head. The siren gazed upon him with hunger and curiosity as if she, too, didn’t have much faith in the just king’s ability. With a furious battle cry, he sliced his blade through her scaly flesh. A monstrous shriek broke from her lips as she crumpled onto the ground, blood pooling from where her fin once was. The tail itself, now dismembered, wiggled across the ledge in the same way that a lizard’s tail does when separated from his body.  
      “You idiot!” she screamed, tears pouring down her cheeks. “You monster!”  
      Edmund tightened his grip on his sword, biting the inside of his cheek. He swallowed back whatever tears threatened to fall– they weren’t appropriate. “We are finished.”  
      Susan averted her eyes in shame and silent disgust, motioning for her brothers to follow her. “I think it’s time we went home” she whispered.  
      “What are you going to do? Just leave me here?!” Gisèle wailed, pounding her fists. She crumpled onto the ground, defeated, and wept hysterically as her pouring blood stained her flesh and soaked the ends of her hair.  
      Edmund wrapped an arm around Nefyn’s torso as he hoisted her up and helped her out of the cave alongside his family. Pursing his lips, he paid the siren one last glance. Deep down, he was certain that Gisèle would always hold a place in his heart, for the few good memories if nothing else. But she was vain and selfish and dishonest and cruel. She only wanted one thing from him, something he refused to give her. He pitied her, really, and he knew he would hear her desperate screams for years afterward in his worst nightmares, coupled with the knowledge of the pain he had caused her and her inevitable death. But sometimes the right choice is not always the easiest, and Edmund’s family was far more important to him than any seductive siren. And while he would always cherish the experience and the time they had together, he knew more than anything that Nefyn would always hold a much bigger piece of his heart, and that every memory with her was a good one.  
      “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. For all of you” Edmund said quietly. The sand squished between their toes, the sunrise glinting on the water. In those moments, freshly unleashed from the darkness, it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.  
      “We forgive you, Ed” Peter replied, patting him on the back. Susan and Lucy nodded in agreement, wrapping their arms around him in sisterly affection. Nefyn, however, didn’t say a word. Edmund glanced to her hesitantly, terrified that she would remain angry with him for as long as she lived.  
      “I hope you know I’m sorry to you, too” he murmured. “I’ve been an ass these past couple days. I don’t even know why I acted the way I did.”  
      “Because all the blood went from your brain to your breeches, that’s why” Nefyn scoffed. “Those sirens are nothing to joke around with, Edmund. You could’ve gotten yourself and everyone else killed.” Edmund bowed his head in shame, muttered that he already knew. “But…” Nefyn added, tone brightening, “You also saved my life, and I will forever be indebted to you for that.”  
      The just king shrugged, cheeks burning. “Just returning the favor, I guess.”  
      Nefyn chuckled softly, rolling her eyes. “Well, favor or not, I think I owe you something anyway.” Licking her lips, she hovered a few inches away from his face for a second before leaning down and giving him a quick kiss. Edmund grinned wildly, face beet red in the morning sunlight. Like a giddy child, he leapt up to cup Nefyn’s face in his hands and kissed her back, awkward and sloppy but joyous all the same.  
      Lucy gasped, delighted, her smile stretching across the whole of her chubby little face. She jumped up and down, pointing at them to her siblings. If they didn’t know any better, they’d think she had just won the lottery. With great triumph, she finally exclaimed, “I told you he liked her!”


	7. VOL 2, EP 19: The Isle of Brenn

      Morning sunlight glinted on the waves as the Splendor Hyaline prepared for it’s departure. Peter weaved past bustling crew members as they loaded their luggage aboard, meeting with Captain Guildmore in the barracks. A large map of the Great Eastern Sea sprawled across a rickety wooden table, with a tin of pins beside for charting the course to their next destination. 

    “I think our best bet would be one of the seven isles” Peter suggested. In the wake of so much chaos and tragedy, he was really itching for someplace new. Someplace calm and quiet, a breath of fresh air. Someplace where he was not expected to be accompanied by Eilonwy.  
    “Well, we can cross Maldonado and Evangeline off the list” Susan added. The others nodded in unanimous agreement.  
    “What does that leave us with?” Peter asked.  
    “Muil, Meroz, Sparrow, and Brenn” Guildmore replied.  
    Something immediately shifted inside Peter at the sound of Brenn. The name sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why. Regardless, he sensed an immediate connotation of peace and security from the word. He envisioned a hazy isle blanketed in a rosy fog with sweet smelling flowers and an ornate marble mansion. The epitome of softness and repose.  
    “Brenn. We should go to Brenn” he announced. He nodded to Guildmore definitively, searching for the isle on the map and pointing at it. The captain nodded, jamming a pin in place. “Su, I need you to send a message to Brenn’s duke asking permission to come ashore” the High King then instructed. His sister nodded, scurrying to her chamber to start her task right away.  
    “What about us, Pete? Anything you need me and Lu to do?” Edmund asked, but Peter shook his head.  
    “Ed, you’ve done enough. If anything, you might as well go check on Nefyn, and you can take Lucy with you. I’m sure she’d enjoy the company” Peter suggested. Edmund’s eyes lit up at the idea, nodding vigorously before taking his sister’s hand and darting down the hall.  
    Per her father’s request, Nefyn was not to pursue any hard work for the next week while she recovered from her altercation. Edmund had scarcely seen her since they returned, Aesop furious with his daughter’s hasty decisions. She tried to explain herself, but he refused to hear a word of it. He glared at Edmund with the fury of a thousand swords, shoving his daughter into their chamber and slamming the door. The just had yet to see her since.  
    Edmund’s palms grew clammy, his voice hoarse, once they reached their quarters. “You know what? How about you knock, Lu? I’m sure Aesop would be way more welcoming to you than he would to me” he said, shoving his sister toward the door. She looked back at him with a smirk of amused suspicion.  
    “Are you scared of him, Edmund?” she asked scandalously.  
    “No!” he rejected. “No, I’m not scared! I just think we have a better shot of seeing Nefyn if he answers to you, that’s all.”  
    “Okay, Edmund” Lucy chuckled. Obviously she didn’t believe him. He had every right to fear the man, though. After all, Aesop was the biggest obstacle standing between he and Nefyn’s happiness. Plus, Edmund was sure the old man could kick him into next century with his strong rear hooves.  
    Lucy rapped at the door musically, smiling up at Aesop when he answered. “Good morning, sir! I hope you’ve settled in alright” she began. He nodded solemnly, glancing to Edmund standing nervously behind her. “We were wondering if it would be alright if we checked on Nefyn for a moment? Peter suggested we come see how she’s doing.”  
    It was clear Aesop considered this a nuisance, but he couldn’t argue with the orders of the High King and therefore unpleasantly ushered them inside. Lucy rushed to Nefyn’s side as she lay curled up on a windowseat overlooking the rushing waves. A grin spread across her face as she clasped her friend’s hands and drew them close.  
    “How are you feeling?” Edmund asked, kneeling beside her.  
    “I’m alright, just a bit weak” she croaked. She squeezed Edmund’s hands with a reassuring smile. He smiled back and discretely tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  
    “Well, Peter officially decided on our next destination” Lucy exclaimed. “We should be in Brenn soon!”  
    “Brenn?” Nefyn repeated uneasily. Lucy nodded.  
    “Why? What’s wrong with Brenn?” Edmund asked.  
    “Oh, nothing, I just…it’s nothing, really” Nefyn replied. Edmund still remained skeptical. If there was something she was hiding, he needed to know. She couldn’t keep quiet about things that could endanger them any longer.  
    “Brenn and Narnia have had treacherous ties since before the Great Winter” Aesop explained, stepping forward. “When Jadis usurped the throne, however, Narnia lost all alliances.”  
    “So it’s like a fresh start then!” Lucy added optimistically.  
    Aesop huffed, cradling a collection of vials in his arms. “One can only hope.”  
    Waves lapped at the sides of the boat as the Splendor Hyaline ventured eastward. Peter closed his eyes and let the wind thrash against his face, whipping at his hair and tunic. The sun was slowly beginning it’s afternoon descent, reflecting its’ warm hues on the water. Susan presently sauntered up beside him, a scroll pressed to her chest. “I finished that message, if you’d like to look over it before I take it to Sallowpad” she offered.  
    “I don’t think you need me proofreading your work, Su” he replied. His eyes remained locked on the ocean ahead.  
    “Well, I figured I ought to offer just in case” she said. She lingered a moment before patting her brother on the back comfortingly and then disappearing. He watched her over his shoulder, her skirts swishing in the breeze, as she ran to the other end of the ship and handed Sallowpad the scroll. He nodded once, taking it in his beak, then flew off toward Brenn. A rock lodged itself in Peter’s stomach and he only hoped the raven would return soon.  
    The sea remained calm well into the night, but still Peter couldn’t sleep. With a sigh, he trudged back onto the deck hoping the fresh air would clear his mind. A million stars twinkled overhead around the fat, full moon. His heart ached. The black silhouette of another ship floated past slowly in the distance, sailing the opposite direction. If Peter hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought it was a pirate ship with how tattered the sail appeared, how sinister were the canons. He wondered what kind of people were aboard, if they were far nicer than the state of their ship made them seem. He hadn’t heard of any pirates in Narnia, but he prayed that if that was, in fact, what they were, that they wouldn’t give him any trouble. They disappeared into the haze shortly after and had not been seen since.  
    Sallowpad swooped onto the deck the following afternoon, breathlessly hopping from one foot to the other. “Your majesties!” he called, approaching the Pevensies. “A reply from Brenn!”  
    “That was fast” Edmund commented, following his siblings closer.  
    Peter snatched the letter from the bird’s beak and quickly ripped it open, scanning the page and reading it’s contents aloud. 

_Your majesties,_  
It is with great appreciation that Rochester, Duke of Brenn, excitedly accepts your request and welcomes you unto his humble nation. Duke Rochester et al anticipate your arrival and ensure your stay shall be of the utmost calibre and comfort.  
Signed,  
Duke Rochester of Brenn

    A small smile tugged at Peter’s lips. “Sallowpad, would you say this letter is an accurate depiction of the nobility and their hospitality?” he asked. He knew well enough that words on paper weren’t always the most honest representation of a person, and his biggest fear was making a mistake in trust.  
    The raven nodded enthusiastically. “I’d say so, yes! Those who I encountered there were very kind, indeed! A beautiful island, too, truly beautiful. Duke Rochester himself was more excited than any noble I’ve yet seen.”  
    “Oh, please tell us what the island is like! Are there lots of trees and flowers? Do they have a big mansion? And what about Duke Rochester? Does he have any children? Anyone my age?” Lucy asked.  
    Sallowpad fluffed his feathers as he explained. “The island is very beautiful, indeed. Rich foliage abound! The duke has two children, a son and a daughter, but I’m sorry to say they are much older than you, Queen Lucy. Twenty three and seventeen years, respectively, I believe.”  
    The valiant’s face fell, disappointed. There were never any nobles her age except maybe Edmund, but he didn’t count as he was just her brother. She so desperately wished to meet someone new who was as young as she. In contrast, Susan’s eyes brightened. She, too, felt as if there were scarcely any noblewomen her age– all that she had met so far were either far older or far more progressed in their livelihood than she. She almost felt inferior to them, truthfully. They were all married and producing children already, meanwhile she wasn’t even close. Not that she even wanted a husband and children yet. She had far more important matters to attend to before ever starting a family. Still, it was the expectations of such that bothered her. She didn’t see any point in rushing ahead. Hopefully this duke’s daughter, and the potential friendship she’d forge with her, would alter those perceptions. As far as she knew, this woman had yet to take a husband or bear children, either.  
    By the next morning, the Pevensies awoke to the shrill ring of the bell on deck. _Land ho!_ Peter’s heart leapt into his chest. They had arrived. As he rushed to get dressed, he began to wonder if any of this was really a good idea or not. How much did he even know about this island? Nothing. What if they truly weren’t as kind and gracious as they had seemed? What if this was all a mistake? He buried his face in his hand and pounded his opposite fist onto his dresser. He wished Eilonwy were here. She would have all the answers. She would know. He cursed himself for still feeling so dependent on a person who was no longer there.  
    “Peter, are you coming?” a voice called. He looked up to find Susan in the doorway fastening her overcoat around her waist. She motioned for him to hurry up as Edmund and Lucy rushed past her. He fixed his hair in the mirror, sucked in a deep breath, and followed close behind.  
    The four monarchs followed Guildmore down the plank to the docks of Redhaven where a group of people awaited. Standing at the forefront was Duke Rochester himself, a plump, balding man with a graying beard and Elizabethan ruff. Guildmore nodded to the man, introducing the Pevensies one by one. Each bowed or curtsied at the mention of their name, much to Duke Rochester’s delight.  
    “It is an honor and a privilege to finally meet you all” he began. “And now, may I introduce my own family. This is my son, Lord Francis”– here, he motioned to a strong, brash man with heavy, blonde facial hair. His muscles rippled beneath his tunic and Susan had to blink a few times to confirm she was not hallucinating. He bowed stiffly, a murderous look constantly on his face. Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about this young man. He wasn’t much older than himself, and yet he was no doubt taller and stronger and perhaps even smarter. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on him for fear of being strangled in his sleep. “And this” the duke then continued, “is my pride and joy, my only daughter, Lady Ginevra.” He displayed before them a young woman of about Susan’s height and age, a most curious specimen. She was truly unlike anything they had ever seen before: her blonde curls were piled high atop her head, perched with a feathered cap; her face was powdered nearly stark white, cheeks blushing a rosy red; the center of her lips was dotted with a crimson hue. A ribbon choked her neck, a fat diamond dangling against her throat. Her dress was a mess of ruffles and bows, her neckline dropping so low her breasts nearly pooled out of them. Her waist was cinched unnaturally tight, her skirt unnaturally large. She fanned her face liberally and clung to a yapping little poodle in the other arm.  
    Peter bowed and kissed her hand, as was customary, but there was something very untraditional about the way he felt. His stomach lurched at the sight of her, and he was terrified he was going to be sick. Maybe it was how gaudy she dressed, to the point where she was borderline ugly. Not that this was incredibly extraordinary– women dolled up their appearances as such all the time. After absorbing so much of Eilonwy’s untouched beauty, however, an appearance such as this was jarring, to say the least.  
    The moment he touched her hand, Ginevra’s cheeks flamed. She batted her eyelashes, jutting her hip and fanning herself strongly. “The pleasure is all mine, your magnificence” she cooed. “I can only hope in time we will know each other better.” Peter nodded absently, averting his eyes. He fought the threat of hot tears desperate to spill.  
    Duke Rochester ushered the monarchs down to the gates of the village where a large covered carriage awaited them. Edmund paused for a moment before following the others inside. “I’m sorry, your highness, is something the matter?” Rochester asked.  
    “Well, it’s just…I don’t think our friends can fit inside” Edmund said cautiously, looking back to Aesop and Nefyn approaching. Rochester blinked a few times as he watched them grow nearer, having not expected such creatures to be in accompaniment.  
    “Well, I see…” he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin.  
    “Can’t they just gallop their way there?” Ginevra asked, peeking her head out of the carriage’s open window. Edmund grimaced.  
    “One of them isn’t in great condition, I’m not about to let her walk all the way there” the just replied, glancing to the mansion on a shallow hill in the distance. Nefyn rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
    “It’s alright, Ed. I can make it. Promise” she whispered. He searched her face for any sign of dishonesty, finding it hard to believe she could handle such a trip, but found none. She smiled softly at him, planted a quick kiss upon his cheek, and turned toward the back of the carriage with her father. Edmund didn’t want to settle, but he knew he was wasting time and had no choice. He climbed into the seat next to his brother in defeat and away they went.  
    The journey to the duke’s palace felt eternal as Rochester explained with great pride the amenities of his island. He and his daughter pointed out every significant place in the village, such as the shoe-shining shop and the carpenter’s shop and the bakery and the haberdashery. The whole place had a rather fantastical charm to it, like it was pulled straight from one of Lucy’s storybooks in Finchley. Every citizen seemed happy and smiling. Truthfully, Susan and Lucy were rather impressed. When she wasn’t pointing out places in the village, Ginevra was bragging about her credentials: how she owned a thousand dresses of the finest silks and chiffons, how her chambers were the largest in the house and had a direct view of the ocean from her balcony, how she’s had fifteen suitors pining for her hand in the past month alone.  
    “You must feel very successful” Susan commented. Ginevra nodded and giggled infectiously. Peter’s stomach flipped.  
    Upon their arrival, Duke Rochester insisted he give them the grand tour of his home. The mansion was breathtaking and reminded Susan of the Parisian chateaus she saw on a trip to France one summer before the war. Vines twisted up the polished stone walls, bougainvilleas overflowing from boxes on every window. Everything was ornamented with gold. As the tour reached it’s end, Ginevra invited Susan to join her in her chamber to show off the wardrobe she so proudly spoke of on the journey. Susan didn’t expect to accept the offer so eagerly. Ginevra was, in a way, overwhelming, but the gentle felt gratefulthat they shared many of the same interests. Perhaps she had finally found a true friend here.  
    Peter, by contrast, was grateful to get rid of the girl. He had very important business to attend to, anyway. He followed Duke Rochester to his office so that they could speak politics and begin hashing out a plan for their international alliance.  
    “Well, your highness, I must say” Rochester began, settling into a large armchair behind a desk, “My intuition is telling me this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”  
    “I can only hope” Peter replied. He awkwardly sank into the nearest chair, one much smaller than the duke’s and, he presumed, far less comfortable. Rochester rang a little silver bell beside his quill and ink, ushering in a frazzled rabbit maid who set down a silver platter with tea and finger sandwiches. Peter didn’t dare refuse.  
    In the following days, Peter made every effort to remain as busy as humanly possible. He sat through seminars he didn’t really care about, met with dignitaries older than the eternal winter, and toured places that smelled like death. Anything to avoid running into Ginevra. He could hardly sleep, always fearing she’d knock on his door and invade his privacy with her wild eyes and Cheshire cat grin. He couldn’t shake this haunting feeling he had about her. Just looking at her felt unclean.  
    Susan was, perhaps, the only one of the four who was truly enjoying the young lady’s company. Once she broke past the gaudy exterior, she found Ginevra to be delightful company. The pair sat upon the parlor’s balcony one afternoon, watching the trade ships pull in and out of port. “If you have time, I simply must introduce you to Monsieur Chaussure! He truly makes the finest clothes in all of the Seven Isles, you must let him fit you for a gown. Once you experience Chaussure, you’ll never want to wear another designer ever again!” she enthused over tea.  
    “If his work is as wonderful as you say, I’m sure I won’t” Susan laughed. She stirred her lemon wedge around in her cup before taking a sip and looking out across the expanse of land. “Your island truly is beautiful, Ginevra. You’re very lucky.”  
    “I know” she replied. “Almost as beautiful as me.”  
    “Almost” Susan said bluntly.  
    “Speaking of beauty” Ginevra then said. She leaned in close as if she was about to reveal some massive secret. Susan cocked a brow in interest. “It’s no secret that I’m a hot commodity for noblemen, but so far none have been of any interest to me. They’re either too prudent or too old or they have noses the size of Maldonado. How can a girl like me possibly see myself with a man like that? For the rest of her life? It’s impossible!”  
    “Good men do seem to be in such short supply lately” Susan commented. She stirred her lemon into her tea and tried not to think about how few suitors she had had so far.  
    “Out of all the men I’ve met, I haven’t found any that I could see myself spending the rest of my life with. Well, except for one” she continued. By now, she was hardly holding back laughter. Susan was beginning to wonder what else was in this tea. She urged her to continue. “Say, Susan, dear, is your brother on the market?”  
    “Ginevra, with all due respect, I believe Edmund is a little too young for you–” Susan began, but the lady’s cackling quickly cut her off.  
    “Not Edmund, silly! Of course he’s too young for me! I don’t rob cradles, dear! I meant your _other_ brother! Peter! Is he courting anyone?”  
    Susan nearly choked on her tea, struggling a moment to catch her breath. “Y-you’re interested in Peter?” she gasped.  
    “I don’t see what’s so shocking about it. He’s incredibly handsome! And I can only imagine how strong he must be. Oh, and his eyes! His eyes alone are enough to make a woman fall to her knees!” Ginevra enthused.  
    “Ginevra, I don’t know if–” Susan began but, again, was interrupted.  
    “Oh, I bet tons of woman beg for his hand every day in Narnia! Don’t they? Say they don’t and I’ll scream you’re lying!” she babbled. “So, tell me, please! Has he found anyone? Is he taken? Bless my lucky stars, if he is, I swear I’ll just die of heartache!”  
    “Well, I mean” Susan stammered, “He’s…he’s not exactly, but–”  
    “He’s not?! Well then there is a heaven and it’s light shines on me! How lucky I am!” she shrieked, grinning like a small child whose just won the largest teddy bear on the boardwalk.  
    “Ginevra, there’s something you ought to–”  
    “I have no other choice! I must ask him on a date this instant! Wherever is he, anyway? He’s been so busy these past couple days, I swear, I’ve hardly had a second alone with him!”    
    “Ginevra, wait, I don’t think that’s–”  
    “Susan, you’re a doll! A true doll! I couldn’t thank you enough for this!” she enthused. She leapt from her seat, pulling her poodle into her arms, kissed Susan on either cheek, and scurried off down the hall on the verge of exploding.  
    “This is not going to end well…” Susan whispered to herself, shoving a handful of little sugar cookies into her mouth.  
    Peter wandered the gardens praying for just a spare moment of sincere alone time. Truthfully, he was exhausted. As pleased as he was to now be so trusted and held in such high regard by a new ally, this was not the vacation he had expected nor wanted. He had a very limited amount of time until the trumpets would blare to announce dinner, and he wanted nothing more than to just hide away until then and regroup. It was the least he could do. Unfortunately, Peter’s luck wasn’t quite so great.  
    “Your majesty!” a voice called with a little too much enthusiasm. Peter slowly turned to find none other than Ginevra standing before him, her wide skirt bouncing as she bounded near. “Fancy meeting you here! I couldn’t possibly have imagined running into you! One might even say it was fate!” Her obnoxious giggle made Peter want to run for the hills.  
    “Well, I wouldn’t toss that word around too freely” he muttered.  
    “And in the garden of all places, too! Oh, I always thought gardens were so romantic! Haven’t you? The smell of the roses and the way the hedges are just tall enough to hide anyone from seeing whatever you’re doing!” she continued, cocking an eyebrow suggestively. She fanned herself far too much, squeezed her forearms against her chest to accentuate her breasts, swayed her hips as she inched nearer. With every step, Peter recoiled.  
    “Some people don’t really pin too much emphasis on romance” he replied. “I just came out here for some fresh air, and some time alone.” He eyed her harshly with that last word, praying she got the message. She blinked a few times before replying.  
    “Well there’s no better place to be alone than in a garden! And it’s even better being alone together!” she gushed. Peter silently groaned, resisting all urge to smack his palm against his forehead. Perhaps she really was as dense as he feared she might be.  
    “With all due respect, some people prefer to just be alone” he replied.  
    “Well, that’s silly!” she laughed back. “Nobody ever really likes being alone! Where’s the fun in that? The more the merrier, I say! There’s nothing better than spending time with friends! Especially when you’re in rather attractive company!”  
    Peter felt his cheeks burn red. By now, Ginevra had backed him up against a rather large wall of shrubbery and he had very few methods of escape. Trapped, he was completely under her thumb. To think, High King of Narnia, head of Aslan’s Army in the Battle of Beruna, trapped by a woman wearing fifteen million bows and feathers. Pathetic.  
    “Attractive company is hard to find” he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes. She pressed her chest against his, pouting her lips and continuing to fan herself.  
    “Indeed it is, your majesty! Lucky for both us, you’re in the presence of a stunning young woman, and I in the presence of the most handsome man!” she gushed. “Our compatibility would be off the charts! Oh, I could just die!”  
    “Yeah, me too” Peter mumbled. His entire body had broken out into a sweat, and he hated the other sensations beginning to grow from the pit of his stomach. This was inappropriate. This was unacceptable. This was cheating. He wanted to speak out, to fight her advances, but couldn’t make a sound. He was losing control.  
    Ginevra continued to babble incessantly about the most trivial things, continuing to bat her lashes and push her breasts into his face. He hated every second of it, her body the flame skating down the wick of a very short fuse. His mind spun and his heart raced and then he was on the verge of snapping when finally the trumpets blared to announce dinner. Ginevra gripped his forearm tightly as she rushed through the maze of foliage and through the double doors. “Do say you’ll sit next to me!”  
    It wasn’t Susan’s fault. She stood by that devoutly. Her brother’s misery was not her fault. She had tried to tell Ginevra to slow down, that he wasn’t in the right frame of my mind for romance, that he was still nursing some very deep wounds. She wanted to shield Peter from her advances, but Ginevra was a force to be reckoned with. She doesn’t accept no for an answer. When she sees something she wants, she’s determined to get it, no questions asked. However, Susan couldn’t help but feel pity for her brother as dinner commenced. Ginevra scooted her chair so close she was nearly in his lap, and talked his ear off the entire night about this and that, nothing of any real substance. Lucy and Edmund glanced to each other knowing something had to be done. Their brother was very quickly unraveling.  
    “Um, Peter?” Lucy interrupted, coughing into her fist. Ginevra paused mid-sentence, turning to the young queen curiously. Peter’s eyes brightened– just hearing someone else’s voice was enough to save his shattered soul. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you please join me for a moment of fresh air?” The duke shot her a strange look, as if he suspected something was up, to which Lucy quickly added, “It’s just slightly stuffy in here, and I could really use a quick walk around the garden, if that’s alright, sir.” Rochester cocked a brow, taking a moment to think, before scoffing and waving a hand in permission. Peter nodded vigorously, leaping from his seat and joining his sister.  
    “Lu, you’re a life saver!” he exclaimed, lifting her up into his arms once outside. “I swear, if I had to sit there for one more second–”  
    “You were going to explode? We know” she interrupted. Peter nodded with a weak laugh, rubbing his face and sighing as if to silently ask how he could’ve possibly gotten into this. “What’s been going on with you lately, Pete?”  
    “God, I don’t know” he moaned. “I just want absolutely nothing to do with that girl, but she won’t take no for an answer!” Lucy placed a gentle hand on his forearm.  
    “What bothers you so much about her, anyway? I mean, she seems perfectly pleasant to me, if not a little over the top” the young queen asked.  
    “There’s just…she’s too much, Lu. I can’t take it. I’ve been doing everything in my power to avoid her these past couple days and yet the one moment I take a break, she tracks me down and refuses to let me go. She found me in the gardens earlier and she did not take any precautions in letting me know how interested she was in me.”  
    “Well, is it so bad for her to be interested?”  
    “Yes, Lucy, it’s very bad! I don’t want her to be interested in me! I don’t want anyone to be interested in me, for that matter! Except for the one person I can’t have: Eilonwy.”  
    “I guess I haven’t done a very good job of giving you a vacation from her, have I?” Lucy asked sadly.  
    “No, Lu, listen, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have prevented any of this. No one could’ve. I just…god, I feel like I can never catch a break. I still miss her so much, Lucy. I think about her all the time. I’m so scared. Where did she go? What is she doing? Is she alright? Is she safe? Is she even still alive? I just…being here, without her, with Ginevra acting the way she does? It feels unclean. It feels wrong. Like I’m being unfaithful” Peter explained. The valiant sighed and wrapped her arms around her big brother.  
    “I’m so sorry, Peter. We miss her, too, you know” she whispered. She didn’t want to continue for fear of upsetting him more, but she knew she’d face a strong sense of regret if she didn’t say anything. “But at the same time, we can’t change what happened. Eilonwy left and…and there’s no way we can bring her back. The only way she’ll ever return is if she does so on her own terms, so…so until then, if then, we just have to…make do with what we have.” She pulled away to lock eyes with her brother apologetically. “Peter, I can’t stand to see you so upset, and I don’t want you wasting the rest of your life feeling empty because she’s gone. Maybe she will come back some day, and if she does then great! But if not, I don’t want you to waste the rest of your life waiting for someone whose never coming back. You deserve to be happy, Peter, with or without Eilonwy.”  
    The High King sighed and chewed over his baby sister’s words. He didn’t want to believe her, but he knew she made a very poignant point. “How did you get to be so wise?” he finally asked, petting her head affectionately.  
    “It’s all those books, I suppose” she replied with a grin. “But really, Peter, we can’t spend the rest of our lives dwelling on what we can’t change. We have to have faith that everything that has happened and will happen is what’s meant to happen. Aslan wouldn’t put us through pain without a purpose, I don’t think. We have to trust that he has a plan, even if we can’t see it yet. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to, so long as we believe that Aslan is in charge.” She leaned up on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on Peter’s cheek before slowly returning to the dining room. Peter watched her depart, a heavy sensation pressing against his heart.  
    With a deep breath, he turned toward the horizon, watching the waves and the moon and the stars. Aslan had a plan, she said. Everything that happens is meant to be, she said. Closing his eyes, he pressed his palms to his face and prayed that she was right.


	8. VOL 2, EP 20: Let's Play Hardball

“How about we take our dessert on the terrace tonight?” the duke suggested, wiping his mouth clean. As much as he wanted to disappear and skip out on the rest of dinner, Peter knew he had no other choice but to suck it up and finish what he started. If he left, people would question. Ginevra would come knocking at his door. He couldn’t handle that kind of confrontation. He didn’t have the strength.

“I think that’s a great idea” Susan replied. “It would be a shame not to take advantage of such a lovely night.” The others nodded in agreement.  
Ginevra adjusted her corset before rising from her seat. “If you’d excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up in the powder room and then I’ll join you all!” Before departing, she reached down to grasp Peter’s hand and plant a kiss on his cheek. Her lipstick left a big red mark on his skin, and she forced something scratchy and stiff into his palm. He watched her walk toward the door, batting her eyelashes at him over her shoulder. He discretely unfolded the slip of paper, cursing under his breath as he read. You + Me. Garden. 9pm sharp.  
Peter quickly crumpled the note up and stuck it in his pocket, praying nobody noticed. His mind began racing with different scenarios, though he knew exactly what was bound to happen. The only question was how to get out of it, if at all. He glanced to the duke sitting at the head of the table and was reminded of the fragility of his situation. Break his daughter’s heart and he could lose a valuable alliance. But if he said nothing? He’d only be digging his grave.  
The just sucked in a deep breath as he rapped on the door with his elbow. Aesop’s stern face made him question himself, but he knew this was something he had to do. “Might I be able to see Nefyn? Just for a moment?” he asked. The old centaur grimaced down at him a moment before ushering him inside. Once he entered, he found Nefyn still wrapped in her blanket but this time up and about before a cart messy with vials and potions and herbs. “I guess you’re feeling better” Edmund said.  
Nefyn looked up from her work and smiled. She still wasn’t perfect, but she was managing. Her disposition was brighter, and Edmund assumed the rest of her would follow suit. “Sorry I haven’t seen you much in the past week. Father’s had me catching up on work.”  
“I understand” Edmund replied. “At least I get to see you once in a while. Oh, and I brought you food!” He set down a silver tray of sandwiches and fruits and sweet wine. Aesop must be working her to the bone, he thought to himself. She hasn’t even joined us for meals.  
The centaurette’s face lit up as she galloped forward and snatched away a turkey and cheese. She swallowed each bite as if she hadn’t eaten in days. “Thanks so much, Ed. I really appreciate it” she said, planting a sloppy, full-mouthed kiss on his cheek. He blushed and replied that it was no problem at all. “So what have I missed? Anything interesting?”  
“Well…” Edmund began. Where should he even start? “Peter’s been running himself ragged all week learning everything there is to know about Brenn. I think something’s up with him, though. Normally he doesn’t exert this much energy familiarizing himself with an island. I think there’s more to it than this alliance with Rochester.”  
“You think Rochester’s got something up his sleeve?” Nefyn asked, voice muffled by her food.  
“No, maybe not that, exactly” Edmund shook his head. “I think it’s more along the lines of Peter avoiding something. Or someone.” Nefyn cocked a brow, silently begging for elaboration. “It seems like Rochester’s daughter, Ginevra, has been all over Peter lately. You should’ve seen her tonight at dinner, Nef. She was practically in his lap.”  
“Oh, for Aslan’s sake” she muttered. “Doesn’t she know about–?”  
“I don’t know. You’d think if she did, she wouldnn’t be so forward.”  
“Exactly. Either way, this can’t end well.”  
“Agreed. I’d hate to see us lose this alliance just because someone can’t keep her hands to herself.” Nefyn nodded, taking another bite of her food. She stared stoically to her vials, wondering if there was such a thing as a love potion and, if so, if it had an opposite. If only, and then perhaps she could save the High King from certain destruction.  
Five minutes to nine. The magnificent paced back and forth in his chamber, squeezing the little slip of paper in his fist. He still hadn’t decided what to do. There was too much at stake to decline, but there was too much risk in playing along. How much did they need Brenn’s alliance, anyways? Maybe he could just call everything off. Thank Rochester for a lovely week but say he’s changed his mind, that perhaps their two countries don’t have as much chemistry as he initially thought. Return home to the comfort of Cair Paravel and forget all of this ever happened. But there was no forgetting. He could either leave successful or bear the weight of new enemies on his shoulders. He sunk into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. The clock struck nine.  
Ginevra paced the grand corridor, fanning herself excessively. With every passing minute, her heart leapt higher into her throat. She could feel the sweat beading on her brow, threatening to smudge her makeup. She needed to be beautiful for him. She checked herself in the mirror, slathering on another coat of bright red lipstick and fixing her hair. Then, behind her, she caught Peter’s reflection slowly enter the scene. She yelped happily, tossing her fan to the wayside and gripping his hands tightly. Before he could say a word, she was dragging him through the large double doors and into the winding hedge maze.  
Peter swung to and fro as she led him to the heart of the labyrinth, the deepest chasm where no one would ever be able to find them. His intestines knotted, his hands beginning to tremble at his sides. What the fuck was she doing? “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, glancing constantly over his shoulder.  
“Of course!” she shouted. When they finally reached the center of the maze, she stopped so abruptly Peter nearly fell into her. He struggled to catch his breath, leaning against the lip of a large, obnoxious fountain– the kind with cherubs peeing into it.  
“Alright, Ginevra, no more games. What is this all about?” he gasped. She cocked her head to the side and batted her lashes innocently.  
“Oh, Peter, whatever are you talking about?” she cooed. “Is it so wrong to want a little company on a night like this?”  
“A night like what?” he asked, knitting his brows together.  
“Oh, don’t be so dumb!” she exclaimed. “It’s plain to see it’s a lovely night! With the big, bright moon and all the glittering little stars overhead. Some might even call it romantic…” She leaned closer and fluttered her lashes. Peter was positive he was going to be sick.  
“Well, I-I don’t know if romantic is necessarily the best word for it, Ginevra…” he stammered, recoiling. How many times was she going to corner him in this goddamn garden? If the maze itself wasn’t so confusing, he’d bolt for the exit immediately.  
“What other word might you use, then? Enchanting? Stunning? Beautiful?” she suggested, inching nearer and nearer. She slowly removed a lacey glove from her hand, pressing it hard against his chest.  
“W-wait a second–” he protested, but she barely let him speak.  
“Shh, shh, shh” she pressed her other finger to his lips. The branches of a hedge no taller than himself poked at his back and tangled his hair. “No more excuses, your majesty. Just let it be…” And with that, she slowly closed her eyes, skated her finger down to his collar, and pressed her puckered lips against his.  
Peter’s eyes widened, his heart racing. Something wasn’t right. None of this was right. He felt as if at any moment, Eilonwy would come bursting through the bushes, sword drawn, yelling wildly and threatening to slice this woman to pieces. He couldn’t do this. Not now, not ever. With all the force he could muster, he shoved Ginevra away and wiped his lips clean of her stain. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he shouted. She pouted her lips and pressed her breasts together stupidly, placing a finger on her chin.  
“I thought that’s what you wanted, your majesty!” she replied.  
“What signs did I possibly give off to make you believe I wanted to be kissed?!” he fired back. Now she was the one not given a chance to answer. “I’ve tried to be nice but this is the last straw! I can’t do this anymore! I don’t like you, Ginevra! Not now, not ever! I didn’t come here with the intention of being some playboy flirting with every duke’s daughter within reach!”  
Ginevra’s eyes welled with tears, clenching her fists at her sides. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying to find the right words to say, before finally shouting back, “Well, fine! If that’s how you feel about it, then I’m sure my father would love to know about it! I’ll report this to him immediately, and you can say sayonara to your little alliance! I can’t possibly imagine why my country would want to be friends with the likes of Narnia, anyways, if this is how they treat their hosts! Maybe we’ll even declare war against you! Then you can see what Brenn is truly made of!” She turned on her heel, pointing her chin to the sky, trying to appear far more confident than she really was, but Peter grabbed her wrist before she could walk away.  
“Wait, hold on a second! I’m not finished yet! Don’t you think that’s all a little bit drastic?” he asked. Ginevra narrowed her glossy eyes at him.  
“All is fair in love and war” she growled.  
“You’re being an absolute child” he insulted.  
“Well, you’re being an absolute ass!” she shouted back.  
“You can’t just threaten to ruin the lives of those who don’t give you what you want, you know!” said Peter.  
“Oh, really? According to whom?” she spat back. “If you’re so desperate to keep this alliance with my father, then you better get on your hands and knees and beg me for forgiveness!”  
“What? No! That’s ridiculous! I am the High King! I don’t beg to anyone!”  
“Well, you ought to change your principles, your highness, because your country is one step closer to a death sentence!” she shouted, wiggling free of his grasp and recoiling a few paces.  
“You can’t possibly think that your little island is strong enough to beat Narnia!” Peter protested.  
“We can and we will! Brenn will burn your castle to the ground and destroy everything and everyone in it!”  
“Is that a promise?” he asked sharply.  
“If you continue playing your cards this way” she replied back with just as much fire.  
“And there’s no way to change your mind.”  
“None whatsoever” she began, but stopped and thought for a moment, reconsidering her choices. “Unless…”  
“Unless what?”  
“Well, I have a proposal that may just save your skin, should you wish to hear it.”  
“Go on.”  
“If you take me on one measly little date, then maybe, just maybe, I won’t tell my father about this and ruin Narnia’s reputation forever.”  
“That’s your best offer? A date?” Peter scoffed. Unbelievable. This girl didn’t rest.  
Ginevra nodded. “Yes, one little date and your ass is saved.”  
“Alright, so say I go along with this. We’re speaking theoretically here, so don’t get too excited. What are the conditions of this date?”  
“Six course dinner! A grand ball. A night spent in the same chamber.”  
“No, unacceptable. Two course dinner, no dancing, no romance of any kind. Just two people eating a very small meal and saying goodnight.”  
The young lady laughed and shook her head. “Narnia isn’t very well-versed in romance, I see. What a pity! But alright then, let’s meet in the middle. Three course dinner, very little dancing, one goodnight kiss.”  
“Three course dinner, very little dancing” Peter repeated in agreement, “no goodnight kiss.”  
Ginevra grimaced, but she knew she wasn’t going to get much more out of him. “Fine, I’ll accept that.” She swatted him lightly on the arm as a deviish smile spread across her lips. “So I guess it’s a date then.”  
“I guess so” Peter replied, uncertainty beginning to waver in his voice. Ginevra nodded once, her smile spreading, as she whipped around and skipped back to the castle gleefully. As the magnificent watched her depart, he sighed and slumped down into the grass. If he had any on hand right now, he would be swigging back a shot of very strong alcohol. His head was spinning– what the hell just happened? It was as if he had been completely displaced from his body and inhabited by someone else. He fell onto his back and covered his face with his arm. This was not the way he intended things to go. Ginevra was quite the negotiator, he’d give her that. She was hard to resist, and she knew how to play her cards right. Perhaps she was smarter than he thought. And if tonight was any indication of her intelligence, he’d have to be extra careful with her from this point forward. Heaven only knows what else she’d do to him.


	9. VOL 2, EP. 21: The Date

               It was clear Peter had scarcely slept that night as he trudged down the hall the next morning for breakfast. He looked out the window, the sun glaring in his eyes and against the sea, and wished for home. This was all a mistake. Every last bit of it. He never should’ve come here. But there was no way out. Not now. He couldn’t possibly leave. Not when Narnia’s fate rested on his compliance. 

               Ginevra, of course, was as perky as ever. Peter grumbled as he entered the dining hall, eyeing the seat furthest from the girl, but that just wouldn’t do. The lady leapt from the table and rushed toward him, gripping him by the arm and forcing him down beside her. “Good morning, your majesty! And what a lovely morning indeed, wouldn’t you agree?” she chirped with a plastic smile. Peter grumbled and slumped into his seat. This was not the decorum she expected. She sat down next to him and squeezed his hand so tightly under the table he nearly yelped. There were daggers in her eyes. “Wouldn’t you agree?” she repeated.

               The High King sighed and rubbed the sleep from his face. “Yes, a lovely morning. Absolutely wonderful.”

               Susan, Edmund, and Lucy shot each other suspicious glances, unsure of what was conspiring beneath their facades. The duke, however, was completely oblivious, guffawing as he patted his fat, round stomach and bellowing, “Well, I am pleased to see you both get on so well! It does my heart good to see our two countries finally coming together, just as Aslan intended.” Again, the king and queens glanced to each other curiously. What did he mean by ‘just as Aslan intended’? Was there some other prophecy they were unaware of? Susan gripped her skirts beneath the table.

               During the entire course of breakfast, Ginevra clung to Peter as if he was a life preserver and she was drowning at sea. She poked and prodded at him, forcing smiles out of him and squeezing his hand whenever he said or did something of which she did not approve. It was all about the appearance. If he appeared happy, then he would be. It was clear to the Pevensie siblings, however, that he was not at all happy.

               Perhaps the worst part, however, was that his brother and sister were not the only ones who could tell something was amiss. At the other end of the table sat Ginevra’s brother, Francis, staring at the High King sternly. Francis never seemed to spend much time with his family, only appearing at mealtimes, but Edmund had seen what this man was capable of. One afternoon, he approached the training grounds for some solo sparring only to find the fields were already occupied. If it had been anyone else, Edmund would have greeted them kindly and joined their match. Francis, however, was a force to be reckoned with. He fought with so much passion, so much fire, that Edmund was certain he would be sliced to pieces should he ever get in this man’s way. Truly terrifying.

               Duke Rochester sat back in his seat and patted his stomach in satisfaction. A jittery rabbit maid scurried over to take away his empty plate. “Monsieur Aubergine certainly knows how to make an omelet” he enthused. He rose from his seat as the rest of the staff cleaned away everyone else’s plates, eyeing Peter and Ginevra as they stood in unison.

               “Father! I think now would be a wonderful time to inform you that Peter and I won’t be joining you all for dinner” Ginevra then announced. Francis narrowed his eyes. Edmund cocked a brow. Susan and Lucy held one another’s hand tightly.

               “Oh, is that so?” the duke replied. A sly expression touched his face as if he already knew where this was going. He probably did. Peter wouldn’t have been surprised if she had approached her father and told him in private, then requested a formal announcement so that she could make a deal about it in front of everyone else. That certainly sounded like something she’d do.

               “I don’t quite understand” Susan interrupted, voice wavering. She, too, already had an idea of where this was going. Her heart leapt into her throat. “What’s going on?”

               Ginevra could barely contain her excitement, a Cheshire cat grin scrawled across her face. “Peter and I have a date!” she shrieked, gripping the High King’s arm. Her entire body was quivering with excitement. She looked up at him like he was the best thing to ever grace the earth. Pure shock unanimously crossed everyone’s faces. Peter looked exhausted.

               The door slammed shut. The magnificent sunk into the nearest chair, burying his face into his hands. Edmund furrowed his brows as he tried to comprehend everything. “How the hell did this happen?” he asked.

               “Last night, Ginevra…she handed me this slip of paper at dinner telling me to meet her in the garden. I did. I don’t know why, but I did. She came onto me and I told her I couldn’t do this, but then she threatened me, and now…”

               “Threatened you with what?” Lucy asked. Her hand immediately flew to the little dagger at her side, as if at any moment she was prepared to barge into Ginevra’s chambers and slit her throat. How dare she threaten her brother. Peter rested his hand atop hers to calm her, however, shaking his head minutely.

               “Not that kind of threat, Lu. She just…she said that if I didn’t humor her affections, she’d complain to her father and have him wage war against Narnia. I can’t put our people through that. Not after what happened with the witch. They don’t deserve that” he explained.

               “Well, you don’t deserve this” Susan replied. Her eyes had remained locked on the ground, guilt painting her face though nobody quite understood what for. Obviously everyone had seen Peter’s struggle the past few months, but this was something deeper. Something harsh and raw.

               Peter shook his head. “No, I do. This is what I get for neglecting my duties for so long. I’ve done such a shit job of being king and now Narnia is in danger. If I had just pushed my feelings aside and done what was asked of me, then maybe–”

               “Peter, stop!” Susan shouted. Finally, she looked up from the ground. She clenched her fists at her side. “Peter, this is not your fault. You had every right to be depressed regardless of what that meant for Narnia and for us.”

               “We didn’t mind picking up the slack while you healed, Peter! Really, we didn’t” Lucy chimed in.

               Edmund nodded. “I think anyone else in your position would’ve reacted the same way. I know I would have.”

               “That’s no excuse” Peter replied. “I still should’ve done what was necessary of me. It was unfair of me to load all of that on you and now I’m paying the well-deserved price. There’s no one else to blame but me.”

               The gentle queen bit her lower lip. “That’s not true.” All eyes turned to her as she fought the tremble growing in her hands. “It’s my fault. I’m the one you should be blaming.” Peter looked at her quizzically, urging her to continue. She sucked in a deep breath before speaking again. “When Ginevra and I took our tea the other day, she asked about you. She expressed a great deal of interest in you. I tried to tell her you were in no place for romance, but she…she wouldn’t listen to me. I should’ve done something to stop her but I didn’t. And now look what I’ve done.” By the time she was finished, tears were rolling down her cheeks. There was nothing Susan hated more than conflict, especially when it was her fault.  

               Peter sighed and approached, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Soon, the others followed suit. “Susan, do not blame yourself. None of this is your fault” Peter whispered. “You tried to tell her, you did all that you felt you could do, and that’s all anyone can ever ask of you.”

               Lucy nodded, nuzzling her sister’s arm. “Peter’s right. Don’t beat yourself up about it, Susan.”

               “After all” Edmund added, “she’s not exactly a champion listener.”

               The magnificent chuckled sadly, pulling away from his sister and wiping her tears the same way he would when she’d come running home as a child with a bruised elbow or a scraped knee. “I don’t want you to cry about this anymore, Su. None of this was your fault, I promise.”

               “Well, that’s all well and good, Peter, but what about you? Now you have to deal with this. What happens next?”

               He chewed over her words for a moment before straightening his back and lifting his chin ever so slightly. “I face it head on. I’ll go on that date with Ginevra tonight, but I won’t be happy about it. And if she tries anything, then I won’t baby her like everyone else seems to. Even if that means Narnia will be at war.”

               “Pete, don’t you think that’s a little…I don’t know, dangerous?” Edmund asked.  

               “I mean, of course it is, but do you have a better idea?” Peter challenged.

               A sly smirk spread across the just’s face as he invited his brother to sit down. “Ginevra is only doing this because she likes you, right?” he asked. Peter nodded, his sisters supporting his claim. “Well, what if we gave her reason to feel differently?”

               “What do you mean? Like how? Peter’s so likeable already” Lucy questioned.

               “Simple. He just needs to be as unlikeable as possible.”

               Peter leaned back in his seat as he considered his brother’s suggestion. If he acted as brute and disgusting as possible, then there was no way Ginevra would find that at all attractive. She was clearly a woman of fine taste. There was no way she could stand for something so barbaric. He just hoped she wasn’t petty enough to declare war on the basis of a personality clash. At least it was safer than being hard on her. “And you’re sure this will work?”

               Edmund crossed his arms. “There’s only one way to find out.”

               Five minutes to six. Peter paced the grand foyer in a panic, trying to remember everything his siblings had told him. _Slurp your soup. Eat with your hands. Use crude language. Burp._ A blizzard of tips and tricks he felt he could barely keep up with. Peter was not impolite in the slightest. Short tempered? Sure. Stubborn? Sometimes. But never impolite. The fear of what may happen to Narnia if he fails rested heavily on his back. The fear of what may happen if he doesn’t? Even moreso.

               As he paced back and forth, heavy footsteps caught his attention. They didn’t sound like Ginevra, but he was filled with hope. He fixed his hair, straightened his back, and whipped around only to find Francis standing in the doorway. Peter opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t make a sound. He had no idea what to say to this man. Fortunately, Francis spoke for him.

               He stalked forward, a bear of man, until he was just inches away from the High King. In such close proximity, it was clear to Peter that perhaps he wasn’t as muscular and large and brooding as he would’ve hoped. Francis stared down at him with hard, stony eyes, licking his lips and sucking in a deep breath. “Be careful tonight” he growled. _Careful?_ Peter prepared to respond but again, Francis spoke for him. He clasped the High King’s shoulder with a large, meaty hand, his grip tight. “If you ever so much as think of hurting my sister, I’m going to squeeze the life out of you and feed your flesh to the sharks.”

               Peter gulped, all the blood draining from his face. Where was Lucy with her dagger when he needed her? This was a real threat. All he could manage to do was nod vigorously, a silent promise to abide by his rules. Suddenly, Francis’s face softened. He loosened his grip on the High King’s shoulder, a small, smirking smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

               “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page, your majesty” he replied. His tone was almost taunting, insulting, as if he thought little of the High King. Not that he had any obligation to. Peter wasn’t his ruler. Francis chuckled heartily, slapping Peter on the back a little harder than intended. “Especially since I like you, Peter. I don’t want to have to kill you.” With that, he nodded and walked away.

               Peter watched Francis turn the corner and disappear, gripping the accent table against the wall to keep his balance. His legs felt like jelly, his heart racing in his chest. He had fought in wars, for heaven’s sake! Why did he feel so unhinged by a simple social interaction? Under no circumstances did he want to admit he felt weak in Francis’s presence.

               Sucking in a deep breath, Peter glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes past six. Where was she? Ginevra never seemed to have a punctuality problem. Especially with how excited she seemed earlier, he couldn’t possibly imagine why she would waste a single minute. Peter sighed, clenching his fists at his side, and wondered what the socially acceptable amount of time to wait was before he was allowed to stand her up. But that was just the thing: he couldn’t stand her up. No matter how long it took her to get there, even if it was in her own home, he could not stand her up.

               Outlandish heels clacked down the staircase. Peter started, irrationally afraid that Francis was back for a second round of grilling, but he was far more fortunate. Ginevra squealed when he turned around and barreled down the stairs. She looked as ridiculous as ever in a dress decked out with so many feathers, ruffles, and bows, that Peter wondered how much extra weight she was carrying. “There you are, darling!” she shrieked, bounding forward to embrace him.

               “I thought you said to meet you here at six! You’re late” Peter exclaimed, trying not to sound too frustrated. He was certain his shins were black and blue from her kicking him under the table all day.

               “It takes time to look this beautiful, Peter. Besides, a future queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early” she said matter-of-factly. _A queen in what country? One without clocks?_ Peter thought to himself. She then peered around his body curiously, making a small noise as she did so.

               “What is it? What are you doing?” he asked nervously.

               “Oh, nothing, darling. I just thought if you were so early, you would’ve known to bring me flowers or chocolates or gold! Is that not customary in your country?” she asked.

               “Is it customary in yours?” the High King raised a brow.

               Ginevra shrugged, repositioning her corset to fully accentuate her breasts. “Narnia certainly knows nothing of romance, it seems” she muttered. She fanned herself liberally and extended her opposite arm out expectantly. Before Peter could hook her arm into his own, however, she gasped in horror. “Oh, this simply won’t do!”

               “What? What is it? What’s wrong?” the High King asked. With a deadpan expression, Ginevra motioned toward the space between their bodies. Peter cocked a brow. He still didn’t get it. Rolling her eyes, Ginevra moved closer and pressed a portion of her skirt against his tunic.

               “Don’t you see?” she said, pointing at the overlapping fabric.

               “See what?”

               “You Narnians have no fashion sense” she muttered under breath. “My dress is rose and blush. Your tunic, however, is marigold and midnight.” Peter still didn’t quite understand.

               “I’m sorry, Ginevra, but is this an art lesson or…?”

               “You didn’t compliment me!” she shouted in frustration.

               Peter sighed. “Alright, fine. Your dress is lovely. Is that better?”

               Ginevra was losing her grip. “Not that kind of compliment! I mean you didn’t dress in accordance with my fashion sense. Your color choices don’t compliment mine at all. I cannot be seen with someone wearing such horrendous clothes! You must change this instant.” Before Peter could protest, she had gripped him by the wrist and dragged him upstairs.

               The magnificent still didn’t quite understand what the trouble was. Did it really matter if their outfits weren’t in sync? In the back of his mind, all he could think about was how Eilonwy wouldn’t care. She would show up to state dinners with mud on her hem and tell anyone who took issue to shove it up their ass. But then again, this was not Eilonwy. Ginevra did care.

               The moment she reached his chambers, Ginevra swung open the High King’s trunk and began rummaging through his clothes. She tossed every tunic and pair of stockings he owned this way and that, making snide remarks about each one. The deeper she dove, the more maddened he became until she reached something he hoped she’d never find.

               “And what the devil is this?” she asked, disgusted, holding up a small leather pouch. Her face contorted as she pulled open the drawstring and dumped the wooden figurine into her palm. Staring back at her was a carving of a man with a woman in white. The wedding cake topper Lucy had given him for Christmas. This was the last bit of Eilonwy he had left. He protected it with his life.

               Ginevra’s face contorted at the sight of it, inspecting the details before rolling her eyes and tossing the figure across the room. Peter shouted at her and dove across the floor in an effort to catch it but it was too late. The delicate gift fell to the floor, snapping in half at the intertwined hands so that Peter’s character rolled in one direction and Eilonwy’s in another. Utterly broken.

               “Alright, that’s it!” Peter shouted, rising to his feet. He stalked toward Ginevra, seizing her arm and tugging her to her feet. “This is over.”

               “Wait, darling, what do you mean ‘over’? We’ve only just begun!” she protested, staring at him dumbly.

               “I’m breaking off my end of the deal” Peter growled. It took all his strength not to squeeze Ginevra’s arm tight enough to break a bone. Not that he would ever do something so horrid, but just the idea of it was mildly satisfying in those violent moments. An act of revenge, even.

               Ginevra gasped in amusement, looking at him with wide, intrigued eyes. “As if! You wouldn’t dare risk a war with Brenn if you knew what was good for you! We had an agreement, Peter!”

               “Not anymore, we don’t” he replied, leading her toward the door. He couldn’t give less of a fuck anymore. Let Brenn declare war. Let Francis beat him to a pulp. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

               “And why not? Just because I wanted you to look presentable!” she shouted back.

               “I can’t keep playing this game anymore, Ginevra! I never wanted to play in the first place!” Peter could hardly keep his voice down, so angry yet a part of him still apprehensive of causing a scene.

               “What game, darling?” Ginevra replied. It was clear she was acting stupid, hoping to cater to his soft side with fluttering lashes and a jutted bosom. Acts of flirtation, however, would not work on the High King. He was far above such base tactics.

               “You know perfectly well what I am talking about! This twisted little charade of yours, threatening war just to get in my trousers! Well, I’ve had enough of it!” Peter fired back. “I’ve tried to be nice but now you’ve taken things too far!”

               Ginevra fanned herself nervously, trying to look cute and innocent to chill his wrath. “Peter, darling, whatever are you trying to say?”

               The magnificent groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, before exploding. “I don’t like you, Ginevra! I’m not going to buy you flowers or chocolates or change my outfit or anything else of the sort because I don’t like you! You parade around here expecting everyone to do your bidding for you, to get everything your wicked little heart desires, but you don’t care! Not really! You don’t like me, you only like the idea of me! The idea of flaunting around with the High King on your arm is exciting for you, isn’t it? But you don’t know anything about me, nor do you care to! I’m tired of everyone thinking they know me, and quite frankly I’m sick of it! I just wish you and everyone else on this goddamn island would just leave me alone!”

               Peter huffed, face bright red and hands clenched at his sides. Ginevra had recoiled several paces, her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes grew glossy with impending tears. “W-well, if you really hated me that much, then why didn’t you just say so!” she shouted back hoarsely. “I’m not stupid, Peter! I know when I’m wanted! I know how to take a hint!” And with that, she swung the door wide open and sprinted down the hall in monstrous tears.

               Once she left the room, Peter finally felt relief but it was in no way satisfying like he had hoped. He imagined standing up to her to feel like finally getting a kink out of your neck: absolutely liberating. Instead, he just felt like he had just thrown up after running a marathon: tired and breathless with an awful taste stuck in his mouth. He rubbed his face, realizing only then how truly exhausted he was, and fell into the nearest chair in defeat. Either way, he surmised, he could not fucking win.


	10. VOL 2, EP 22: Underneath This Smile

Peter rushed downstairs in a panic, his heart racing in his chest. The chances of Ginevra having not already complained to her father and brother were slim, but that didn’t change what he needed to do. If he could just explain himself and apologize, then perhaps Rochester would take pity on him. Perhaps Francis wouldn’t murder him. Perhaps Narnia would be saved after all.

The moment he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found the duke speaking with another man, perhaps some sort of dignitary, in the doorway. Francis stood beside him, his trademark stern expression painted on his face. Peter rushed forward, his face flushed, and swallowed back his fear. “S-sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to apologize for—”

“King Peter!” Rochester bellowed, patting the boy on the back. “Speak of the devil! I was just telling Sir Poubelle here of what a fine couple weeks we’ve had, and our even finer pending alliance!” The man, Sir Poubelle, smiled politely and nodded in satisfaction.

“And what a truly fine alliance it will be, your majesty. To think—Narnia and Brenn finally united!” the man exclaimed. He polished his little round glasses, humming happily to himself, before nodding to the two men and venturing inside to take his seat.

Peter blinked a few times, struggling to comprehend what just happened. Surely if Ginevra had already come crying to her father, Rochester would be in a far less perky mood. The High King peered through the doorway, scanning the faces in the crowd. Ginevra was nowhere to be found. The duke cleared his throat, pulling Peter from his pondering. “Your highness, was there something you wished to tell me?”

Peter turned back to the duke, perplexed beyond compare. He glanced to Francis, who raised in eyebrow in anticipation. The magnificent shook his head absently. “N-no…nothing in particular.”

His siblings eyed him as he floated into the room and took his seat beside them. There was a strange, dazed look in his eyes that they didn’t quite understand. “So, how did last night go?” Edmund whispered across his sisters. Peter stared straight ahead, brows furrowed in thought. It wasn’t until the third repeat and a slap on the shoulder courtesy of Lucy that he was finally stirred from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, it was…fine” he lied.

“Peter, are you sure you’re alright?” Susan questioned. She discreetly tucked her hand under his hair—which was getting significantly longer these days, it seemed—and pressed her palm to his forehead. He swatted her away presently.

“Su, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Really.”

“You don’t exactly seem fine, Peter” Lucy whispered back. If something had happened last night, she wanted to know about it. And she knew her siblings felt the same way.

As breakfast commenced, Peter focused solely on his food. He cut his sausage carefully into tiny pieces, picked apart his croissant, and guzzled so much tea Susan was certain he’d face a nasty caffeine crash later. More than anything, however, he refused to look anyone in the eye. All he could think about was Ginevra. That heartbroken look on her face when he screamed at her was haunting. He never meant to hurt her. He was just tired and angry and…depressed.

Susan glanced at him a moment as she sipped her own tea, then scanned the room of unfamiliar faces. Francis ate quietly, steeped in authority, like always. Rochester seemed as jovial as ever. The gentle softly cleared her throat before asking, “Sir, I can’t help but notice we seem to be missing someone. If you don’t mind my asking, where is Ginevra?”

Rochester stole a bite of sausage from his fork, chewing loudly as he replied, “Ginevra unfortunately was unable to join us this morning. Said she was feeling unwell and would rather take her breakfast in bed. Something about a tremendous headache or something of the sort. I’m sure she’ll be fine by lunchtime! Ginevra always has been one to bounce back rather quickly.”

Peter’s heart sank in his chest. She was ill. He assumed she had probably cried so hard the night before, she gave herself a migraine. He could just picture her barging into her lavish bedroom, flopping face first onto the canopy bed and staining her stark white duvet with all that excessive makeup. If she could even flop in the first place with that hoop skirt on. She would’ve awoken with mascara dripping down her cheeks, lipstick smudged across her face, and perhaps feathers from her dress poking out of her mouth. The portrait of pathetic. His chest ached. What had he done?

“Come on, Pete! That’s the fifth time you’ve let me hit you” Edmund shouted from across the training grounds. “If we were in a real battle right now, you’d be dead.” Quite frankly, Peter didn’t care whether he was dead or not. If anything, death would’ve saved him from a lot of trouble. He sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“That’s enough for today, Ed” he muttered. The just looked upon him in disbelief.

“We’ve only been out here for fifteen minutes!” Edmund argued. “What’s gotten into you, Pete? I thought you would’ve loved to blow off some steam.”

“I’m just not in the mood today, Ed.”

“Did something happen last night that you’re not telling us about?”

Peter shot a defensive look to his brother. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve been acting like something’s bugging you all day. And because when I asked you this morning, you said it went fine. You never say things went fine unless they did not, in fact, go fine” Edmund explained. Unfortunately, he read his brother like a book. No wonder his spy corporation was blooming. You couldn’t hide a damn thing from Edmund.

Peter groaned and rubbed his face. “Nothing is bothering me, alright Edmund? I didn’t do anything wrong! Can’t you just bugger off?”

Edmund cocked a brow, his mind clinging to the insistence Peter did nothing wrong. It’s important to note that the just was by no means upset that his brother had yelled at him. He understood the way Peter’s mind worked and what made him tick. Plus, this just put him one step closer to figuring out what was really going on.

Before anymore could be said, the double doors to the training grounds swung open and Susan came hustling forward. “I hoped I’d find you two here!” she shouted toward them. Her face was flushed and dewy, and she fought to catch her breath upon reaching the pair. Lucy rushed up behind her. “I just heard from Ginevra.”

Perfect. Peter stiffened. He didn’t want to deal with this. Susan shot him a cold glance. Edmund cocked a brow. “Oh, really? And what did she have to say?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?” Peter asked. Silence was hard to believe coming from someone who spent much of their time rambling.

“She didn’t want to see anyone” Susan replied casually. “Something about feeling so outrageously sick, she was positive she must be contagious and refuses to communicate with anyone other than her lady in waiting.”

“I wonder what she’s sick with” Lucy pondered. “I hope it’s not food poisoning. You know, I thought that salmon at lunch yesterday was questionable.”

“I don’t think it’s that, Lucy” Susan shook her head. “If it was the food, we’d all be feeling it, wouldn’t we?” The valiant chewed her bottom lip in thought.

Edmund looked to his brother out of the corner of his eye. Peter clenched his fists, focusing his attention on the patches of dirt surrounding him. The just wondered how long it would take for him to crack.

“It’s probably just a headache. Nothing more, nothing less” Peter finally muttered. He swerved around his sisters to head back inside but Lucy leapt over to block his path.

“Wait a second, Peter. You spent all last night with her. If she’s so sick this morning, did she show any signs of being ill last night?” she asked.

Peter didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want to look at any of them. He didn’t want to admit his crimes. He didn’t want them to know he had broken Ginevra.

“Pete did say something earlier about having not done anything wrong, didn’t you Pete?” Edmund asked. The magnificent clenched his teeth and inhaled.

“Alright, fine! If you all insist on knowing, things were not fine last night!” he shouted. “To put it briefly, she was fifteen minutes late, complained I did not bring her flowers or chocolates, and then declared that she could not been seen with me because our outfits did not match so she proceeded to rummage through my trunk for something else.”

The trio blinked a few times in silence. The knew Ginevra was high maintenance but were unsure if her behavior warranted such a strange mood. “So then what happened?” Lucy asked. “Did you change? And what about dinner?”

“We didn’t get to dinner, Lu” Peter sighed. “We didn’t get past the bedroom.”

“Peter!” Susan scolded, blocking Lucy’s ears. If he was going to detail his sexual escapades, none of them needed to hear it.

“Oh, for Aslan’s sake, Susan, not like that!” Peter replied in disgust. “I mean we didn’t get any further than her rummaging through my things.”

“I mean, that is kind of an invasion of privacy” Edmund replied. Says the kid who snooped through Eilonwy’s diary a year ago, Peter thought.

The High King sat on the stone steps and shook his head. “It wasn’t that that bothered me so much as what she did with the things.” Lucy tilted her head curiously. “She threw all my clothes across the room and then when the truck was empty, she found something she wasn’t supposed to touch.”

“What was it?” the valiant asked in the softest of voices. She could sense the pain beginning to shine through in her brother’s tone, the grief of losing something irreplaceable. His eyes glistened, his fingers began to tremble ever so slightly. He took a deep breath and slowly looked to his youngest sister in sadness.

“Your Christmas present…” he choked out. “It’s ruined…it’s broken, snapped in half.”

Lucy’s heart broke at the thought of it. She hadn’t even known he had been carrying it all this time. “Oh, Peter…”

“That was the last straw. I got angry. I yelled at her. I said some horrible things. I threw her out of the room. She ran down the hall crying and…and I haven’t seen her since.”

“That’s why she wasn’t at breakfast this morning” Susan concluded. “She was too ashamed to see you.”

“I’m sure that’s at least partly it” Peter sighed. “I do think her father was telling the truth when he said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Well, she only brought it on herself” Edmund chimed in. “She led herself right to it. Serves her right for pouring salt on your wounds.”

“She had no clue” Susan replied. “I tried to tell her about Peter’s past, but she was so excited to hear he wasn’t currently courting anyone that she wouldn’t listen to me. All she cared about was taking Peter for herself.”

“Still. Serves her right. Maybe now she’ll learn to actually listen” said Edmund.

Peter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. On one hand, he truly agreed with his brother. Ginevra really needed to learn a lesson in empathy. On the other hand, did he really have to be so damn harsh? And then there was the matter of her father and brother. It was all just very complicated and Peter was growing drunk with confusion just trying to organize it all in his head. He wondered what she was doing right now, whether she was cocooned in her canopy bed with a mountain of handkerchiefs and all the drapes shut. He needed to know if she said anything to her father. He needed to know if her brother was going to slice him to ribbons. He needed to know if she hated him now. And more than anything, he needed a break.

“I think I’m going to go for a walk” he replied quietly, approaching the hedge maze in the garden.

“We can join you, if you’d like!” Lucy offered, but Susan placed a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. The valiant looked up at her and quickly understood. Peter glanced back to his family, thanking them anyways, before disappearing behind the wall of shrubbery.

Peter’s chest ached and his skin crawled. He sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and imagined he was in the Narnian wilderness riding Besnik northward. Perhaps he was with a companion. Maybe they were racing. Of course she would win. She always knew the land better than he did. She’d smirk proudly and punch him in the shoulder, say something snarky about how the High King ought to have a faster horse. The sunlight would glint off her irises and illuminate them a warm hazel. Her infectious, organic laugh. Her crooked teeth. Her calloused hands. He shoved the thoughts of his mind.

After a few hours, he found himself back in the mansion. Gardens, though beautiful, warranted too much liberation for the mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his mind off of Eilonwy. He then had the brilliant idea that perhaps a trip to the library would help. She never liked books much anyways. As he ventured toward the stairwell, however, the quiet melody of someone singing captured his attention. It enchanted him, distracted him. He followed the sound to a door creaked slightly ajar, a sliver of sunlight breaking across the threshold. He pressed his back to the wall and listened for a moment longer, trying to decipher the lyrics before realizing they were in a language he did not quite understand. He knew it was wrong, but he was so curious he couldn’t stop himself from peeking inside. The scene he found was captivating.

There she was, sitting upon a quilted tuffet in a chamber bathed in light. She was nothing like how he had known her, draped in a thin white dressing gown with matted hair braided loosely down her back. Tons of little ribbon inventions hung from the high ceilings and strung across the windows and walls. Intrigued, Peter scooted closer for a better view of these strange decorations but accidentally bumped into her nightstand, knocking over a chalice and spilling water onto the floor. Ginevra immediately leapt to her feet, clutching her chest with a shriek.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just me!” Peter replied, raising his hands in surrender. The minute Ginevra recognized her invader, she dropped her fear and replaced it with disdain.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to see me anymore” she said, pouting, as she sat back down. Her fingers worked nimbly, folding the ribbons this way and that until she had somehow magically formed a tiny rose or a butterfly. Peter carefully placed the chalice back on the table, skirted around the puddle he had formed, and inched closer.

“What are all of these?” he asked, tilting his head to the ceiling. “They’re…”

“Stupid, I know” she spat, eyes locked on her work.

“No, I was going to say beautiful.” Ginevra’s cheeks burned red. She tried her best to hide her satisfaction, to fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “Did you make all of these?” he then asked. She nodded softly. There was something strange about seeing her in this fashion: vulnerable and natural and pure. It almost seemed inhuman, and yet this was the most human he had ever witnessed her. Perhaps underneath the makeup and gaudy clothing, there was just a dash of ingenuity. Perhaps he had assumed too much about her too quickly.

Slowly, she turned to face him. She didn’t really want to look at him for fear of breaking down in tears again, but she couldn’t stand to have her back to him. She could feel his eyes boring holes into her skin. It was maddening. “If you must know, my mother taught me how to make them. Now I do them all the time, especially….especially when I’m sad.”

A dagger pierced Peter’s chest. Her voice faltered on the word mother. “We haven’t met your mother yet, have we?” he asked quietly. The room was so bright and pale and delicate, he was almost afraid speaking too loud would shatter it.

The minute the question fell from his lips, Ginevra’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes turned glassy and she angled her body away from him again. “No, I’m sure you haven’t, darling” she whispered. “And I’m afraid you never will. She passed away when I was young. She’s been gone for ten years now.”

“I’m so sorry” Peter choked. He wanted to reach out and perhaps pat her shoulder or perform some other sympathetic action but couldn’t find it in him. It was inappropriate after all he had done to her.

“When she died, I locked myself away for three weeks and did nothing but make ribbon kites. I think I made a total of one hundred eleven” she murmured with a sad giggle. “How absolutely miserable I was!”

Now Peter truly felt her pain. He thought of Eilonwy. He considered telling her everything, but decided against it. Now was not the time. He had more pressing matters to attend to. “You didn’t keep your word, you know.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she gasped, a nervous energy pulsing through her.

“You swore you’d tell your father if I hurt you, that you’d have him declare war on us. I approached him this morning and he seemed as if he knew nothing of the sort” Peter explained. “If anything, he couldn’t stop raving about our nations’ alliance.”

The lady scoffed and rolled her eyes, restraining a laugh. “Peter, darling, did you really think I’d be so cruel?” The magnificent blinked a few times, confirming her suspicions. Folding her arms, she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “I never really planned to do such a thing, Peter.”

“Then why the hell did you threaten me?” he exclaimed.

“It was a power move, darling! Surely you’ve heard of those! I assumed that if I had something to hold you hostage with, there was no way you could possibly defy me” she explained. “But obviously that backfired. You must not have cared enough about your country’s security or else you wouldn’t have said such awful things.”

“Hey, I care about my country plenty!” Peter fired back. “I can’t believe you would even assume such a thing. I am the High King, god dammit!”

“Positions of power do not equal compassion, darling” Ginevra replied coolly. Peter was certain that she had no experience with politics, but there was something about the tone of her voice that denoted a certain level of expertise that made him uneasy. She pulled her dressing gown closed even tighter, crossing her legs at the ankle, and then folded her hands neatly in her lap. Without all the makeup, it was easier to discern the real nature of her face and the way emotion contorted it. Her chiseled features softened with sadness, her eyes a more piercing blue. She was of a classical sort of beauty, like a statue in a museum. A far more palatable presence, certainly.

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Ginevra” he said quietly. “I never intended to hurt you, but you pushed me too far. Things haven’t been very easy the past few months.” He didn’t particularly like admitting his weakness, especially to someone he felt he barely knew, but something about the environment and the way she looked now made him feel stupidly trusting. “I suppose I panicked because I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t considered the possibility of being confronted with someone romantically interested in me.”

“I don’t see how, darling. You’re quite the commodity” she jested with an incredulous laugh. Peter rolled his eyes, unsure whether to laugh or scowl at her comment. Even after all of this, she still found ways to lace her words with flirtation. Unbelievable. In spite of that, however, a tiny, nagging part of him yearned to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps that was truly just her nature, and he could learn to tolerate it. Perhaps they could learn a lot from each other and about each other, so long as they were both willing to listen.

“What is Narnia like?” she asked, strolling alongside him into the garden. It was the least he could do, and she wanted some fresh air. Said she couldn’t stand being cooped up in that room for so many lonely hours. Besides, Peter wanted an actual conversation with her—the real her, not the overzealous version thrusting her breasts in his face and fanning herself like a sinner in church.

“It’s the most beautiful place. Everything about it is incredible, like straight out of a fairytale” he replied.

“You clearly do love your country so” she commented, her cheeks blushing. “I’m sorry I ever doubted that. You must be the perfect king to lead it, too.”

Here, Peter’s face fell. He rubbed the back of his neck, dug the toe of his boot into the fertile soil. “Well, I mean, no one is perfect” he mumbled. Ginevra cocked her head to the side in intrigue. “There is a lot of responsibility that comes with ruling a country, even when you share the duty like I do with my brother and sisters. We didn’t exactly plan for this, you know.”

He wondered if Ginevra was well-versed in the prophecy, if she knew by what way they came upon their stations in life. Even if she did, it was very strange and complex for a foreigner to grasp anyways. Not everyone believed in magic wardrobes and universes beyond the normal comprehension. He was certain some people probably assumed he and his siblings had ventured from the west, barbarians who killed the witch with their bare hands and usurped the throne on their own accord. They probably thought the Pevensies haughty for having spread some nonsensical myth about their origin. They would never believe until they met the monarchs themselves, saw firsthand the way they carry themselves, their strange cavalier attitudes and casual dress. Then they would certainly know they are not of this world.

“But you must be so grateful that it has! To think: becoming an instant king! A beautiful place to live, servants to wait on your every need, tons of money. Not to mention you could have any girl your heart desires” she gushed. Clearly Ginevra had no true understanding of the gruel and devastation involved in this career.

“Women are the least of my concerns” he mumbled. “Women are what got me into this mess. Or at least one woman in particular.”

Ginevra gazed at him with great interest, inquiring, “That horrible witch?”

Peter shook his head. “No, unfortunately. It was…someone else.”

“Then who?” she asked. His heart pounded against his rib cage. Did he really want to talk about this? Did he really want to rip open these still fresh wounds? Again, something about all of this made him feel stupidly trusting.

“Alright” he said, sucking in a deep breath. “There was this girl, she was…honestly, she was amazing. She fought alongside me in battle and taught me nearly everything I know. I was in love with her. I still am. I was going to ask for her hand at Christmas, but…but we wanted different things and…she disappeared. I haven’t seen her since. I have no idea where she is or what she’s doing, if she’s even still alive. I think about her every day and it kills me. I wish I at least knew whether she was alright, whether she was happy.”

Ginevra could see the unimaginable pain painting his face and for the first time ever, she responded with utmost ingenuity. “She was your mavourneen” she replied quietly.

“My what?” Peter asked.

“Your mavourneen. It’s an incredibly old term from your country meaning someone beloved, someone very precious to you” she explained.

Peter’s throat tightened. He could hear Eilonwy’s presence sing from within the word. He sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, that is exactly what she is.”

A sad smile flickered upon Ginevra’s lips. She knew nothing else of this woman but she already hated her for breaking this poor boy’s heart. Resting a gentle hand upon Peter’s shoulder, she said softly, “Well, she was a fool. An absolute fool. I can’t imagine anyone being stupid enough to leave a man as handsome as you.”

“Well, thank you, Ginevra….” Peter murmured. His heart leapt into his throat at her touch. The thought of physical contact with another woman, even as platonic as this, still terrified him. Her hand lingered for a moment longer before the lady dropped her gaze to the ground.

“I’m sorry, as well, for having been so forward” she whispered. “I had no idea of your struggles but even then, that is no excuse. I suppose I was just scared. I had heard so many incredible things about you, and while I knew you were younger than most other diplomats, I never expected you to be quite so handsome as you are.” Peter could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t need her flattery. He let her continue anyways. “I’m not typically one to be denied my desires, either. When I want something with all my heart, I get it. Always. I suppose this is the one time that guarantee fell through.”

While her speech affirmed that she was an absolute spoiled brat, there was an extra dimension to her words. There was a sense of ingenuity. This new Ginevra was refreshing and, in a way, almost comforting. If he had to choose, he was certain he preferred this version of her over that fake dolly façade. Perhaps he could even learn to like her this way. “I hope after all of this, you haven’t found it in your heart to hate me.”

“No, never!” she gasped, horrified at the concept. “Especially now, darling! Why, if anyone should fear hatred it should be me!”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, at least a little bit. In a way she reminded him of a child, always whining about wanting the newest, shiniest toy and prove her worth with the most outlandish looks but at her core, she was vulnerable and pure. Her motives were sometimes questionable, yes, but her morals were in her best interest. “I don’t hate you, Ginevra” he replied. “I’m not fond of what you’ve done, but I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you so much that maybe, after all of this, we could even be friends.” He was surprised he felt shyer about the proposal than he expected to.

A Cheshire cat gin spread across her face as she gripped his hand and replied, “I would like that very much, darling.”


	11. VOL. 2, EP. 23: Return to Cair Paravel

Susan wasn’t sure whether it was the foggy morning air or the melancholy of leaving a new friend that made everything seem different. The crew of the Splendor Hyaline carted their luggage aboard the ship aching to return home. Duke Rochester and his children followed the Pevensies to the docks for a formal goodbye, though Rochester was less than pleased that his new allies were leaving so soon. He had grown so fond of the monarchs during their time there, so inspired by the prospect of their nations’ budding friendship.

Peter bid the duke a fond farewell, then turned to the others. Francis was a man of few words and even fewer affections, a character Peter still did not know well and still did not put much trust in. As he knew it, the man spent much of his time on the training grounds obliterating burlap dummies and bales of hay. A raw, violent creature one would be stupid to cross. He simply nodded to the monarchs with a trademark stony face. Ginevra, however, was a different story.

                Her dress was simple and sweet rather than gaudy, her makeup sparse, and her hair was braided neatly down her back and adorned with pink roses and baby’s breath. She and Peter exchanged a brief smile before she grasped his hands lightly in hers and bowed her head. “It was an honor and a pleasure, your majesty” she stated softly. Everything about her was far too soft. It was as if she had been replaced by someone completely different overnight. Susan eyed her older brother, wondering what on earth had become of this girl.  

                “The feeling is mutual” Peter replied, kissing her hand formally. “I hope we can keep in contact with one another.” This was where Susan, along with the others, grew really puzzled. The magnificent glanced to his sister, adding, “Considering you and Susan seemed to have grown so close.” It was true-- though she was at times insufferable, Susan had found a true friend in Ginevra. To think, she had finally found someone of her age, sophistication, and taste—not to mention marital status. They had already agreed to keep in correspondence over the next few months until they could see one another again. Truly, they had formed a steadfast bond one cannot so easily shake.

                Ginevra bowed her head, her cheeks tinting pink. “I would like that very much” she replied. She stared up at Peter with those steely blue eyes, exuding hope and promise and joy. Ingenuity. A small smile tugged at Susan’s lips. It looked good on her, that ingenuity. Even if she didn’t get what she set out for-- Peter’s heart-- Susan knew her new friend certainly received something far better: growth. She couldn’t have been happier seeing how such a change affected her, of how much more peaceful and pleasant she seemed. And what’s more, Ginevra was not the only one Susan saw a change in.

                As they boarded the ship and set sail, Peter smiled back at the little island. His experience there was nothing short of a nightmare but at the same time, he felt different now. He had made a new friend, helped someone become a better person, and created a fine ally in the process.

                “Peter?” a small voice then asked, shaking the High King from his thoughts. He turned to find Lucy looking up at him curiously. “What are you doing?”

                “Just taking in the view” he replied. “Why?”

                “Just wondering” she replied. Peter gazed at her suspiciously, then shifted his sight to Susan and Edmund in the background. Try as they might, they couldn’t turn away quickly enough for Peter to not notice they were eavesdropping. He glanced back at Lucy, then motioned for her to follow him.

                “Alright, what’s going on here?” he asked his siblings. They all shifted awkwardly, not wanting to look him in the eyes. They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment longer before Susan finally spoke.

                “We’ve just noticed some rather interesting changes lately, that’s all” she explained.

                “Oh really?” Peter asked. “Like what?”

                “Well, for one, you seem to be in a much better mood” Lucy answered. The others nodded in agreement.

                “And we couldn’t help but notice something different about someone else, too…” Nefyn, who had recently entered the scene, chimed in.

                “Wait, what? Who?” he asked dumbly, searching their faces for answers. They stared at him as if he had three heads, and then it clicked. “Do you mean Ginevra? What are you all getting at?”

                Lucy rolled her eyes and laughed in frustration. “Did something happen with you two? She was like a completely different person, Peter!” The way she said the word _something_ both infuriated and terrified him. They had no right to assume anything had happened between them, and Lucy was certainly far too young to know what any _something_ might be.

                “If you’re hinting at intimacy, then no!” he exclaimed. “Absolutely not!”

                “Then what did happen?” Edmund asked, his tone much calmer and less accusatory.

                “We just had a dignified conversation the other night and came to terms with one another like civilized people” Peter explained. “And maybe I realized that people aren’t always who they seem to be at first. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.” And with that, Peter bid his siblings and friend goodbye and disappeared below deck. They watched him depart for a moment before Lucy slumped down against a barrel and buried her face in her hands.

                “I feel ill” she murmured.

                “Come on, Lucy” Susan replied, a tinge of exhaustion in her voice. “I know we all just want answers, but is it really so easy to argue when Peter’s in such a good mood? We should just be happy that he’s smiling for the first time in ages.”

                The valiant shook her head presently. “No, Su, I mean I really feel ill” she replied. She peered up at her sister through the gaps between her fingers and the gentle could tell the young queen suddenly looked far paler than she had before. She knelt down beside her sister to make sure she was alright but quick as lightning, the valiant bolted upright and vomited over the side of the ship.

                “I’ll go get some ginger lollies” Nefyn replied, galloping below deck. Susan watched in horror, holding her sister’s hair back. Lucy never got seasick.

                Once finished, the valiant slumped down on the deck and gasped for breath. Her hair was matted against her sweaty forehead, eyes sunken and skin pale. Susan pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, wiping the dampness away with her skirt. “Lucy, what’s gotten into you?” The valiant just shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

                “Maybe she’s been poisoned” Edmund commented, pacing back and forth in thought.

                “Ed, that’s ridiculous. Who could’ve poisoned her?” Susan asked.

                “The Brennans” he replied curtly.

                The gentle rolled her eyes. “There is no reason for Ginevra or her family to have poisoned Lucy. That’s ridiculous.”

                “Think about it, Su. Didn’t Lucy just mention something the other day about the salmon?” Edmund proposed. Susan paused in thought for a moment.

                “Oh, please don’t say salmon” Lucy whispered hoarsely, swallowing back another round. Her sister furrowed her brows and glanced to the just with great concern. She didn’t want to believe her new friends would do anything to hurt her baby sister, but she couldn’t avoid the facts. The door to the deck swung open and Nefyn came trotting forward with a bouquet of ginger lollipops and a pitcher of peppermint water.

                “Here you go, your majesty” Nefyn said, holding out the fistful of candy. Lucy plucked one from the centaurette’s hand and slid it into her mouth hesitantly, sliding it against the inside of her cheek. As she did so, Nefyn poured a chalice of peppermint water for her and placed the pitcher atop the nearby barrel. “Did I overhear something about salmon?” she then asked. Lucy groaned and squeezed her eyes shut tight.

                “Susan and I were just wondering about the likelihood of Lucy having been poisoned, considering the other day she said the salmon at lunch tasted funny” Edmund replied.

                Nefyn shook her head. “Can’t be.”

                “What do you mean ‘can’t be’?” Edmund asked. “All the math adds up, Nef.”

                The centaurette rolled her eyes. “You’re trying to add two numerals without finding the unknown variables first” she replied. “Yes, Lucy is sick and yes, she said the…fish…tasted funny. The most likely illness she could have would be shigella, which would appear within twenty four to forty eight hours, but that sickness is mostly spread by contaminated food handlers. If she had fallen ill from that, don’t you think you all would be feeling symptoms, as well?”

                Susan and Edmund sat in thought for a moment, paying close attention to every part of their body to check if they, too, were feeling anything unorthodox. Neither of them could say so. “Well, who’s to say the cook didn’t inject poison into her food specifically?” Edmund asked.

                “It’s hard to say without testing a sample of the meat itself” Nefyn replied. “But I truly don’t think that’s the case here. I’ve seen a wide assortment of oral poisons and their effects and none have so docile an effect as what the queen here is suffering from. Plus, those poisons are designed to act within mere hours after consumption. As far as I know, Lucy only just started feeling nauseous.”

                “Well, if it’s not food poisoning and nobody has contaminated her food, then what is it? And what are we supposed to do about it?” Susan asked. Her head was beginning to spin with all of these unanswered questions. She just wanted to know if her sister would be alright.

                “It’s hard to say. A lot of illnesses have nausea as a common symptom” Nefyn replied. “All I can say for sure is that she’ll need lots of rest and fluids. My father and I will make sure she’s taken care of.”

                Lucy peeked out from behind her hands and shook her head. “It’s really not worth your time, Nefyn. I’m fine! Really, I am!” she insisted. Nefyn, however, refused. She helped Lucy to her feet, suggesting the queen lean on her flank for her support, and escorted her to her chamber. The valiant looked back at her brother and sister sadly as she went, face still pale and eyes still sunken. She didn’t want to worry them, nor did she want to be sick. Susan clutched Edmund’s hand tightly, trying to swallow back her concern. While she didn’t particularly want to let Lucy out of her sight, she knew leaving her in Nefyn and Aesop’s care was the best possible thing for her. They knew what they were doing. She needed to trust that.

                Peter paced his chambers nervously, overthinking his siblings’ words. Did they really think he and Ginevra were romantically involved? And if they did, how could they? Yes, she had changed but that meant nothing for Peter’s relationship with her. They were friends, nothing more. He couldn’t even fathom it evolving into anything else, especially after all the difficulty she had caused him up until the very end of their trip. Besides, his heart still belonged to Eilonwy. She was out there somewhere and if she wasn’t going to come back to him, then he would just have to go out and get her, wherever she was. His determination quickly faltered, however, whenever he glanced out the window and saw just how vast the world really was. She could be anywhere. It could take a lifetime to find her. And wherever she was, she was never guaranteed to stay there, so he could very well find where she had been only to discover she was no longer there. The hopelessness of the situation made his head pound. And to think, none of this would have even been an issue had she just never left in the first place. God, how he missed her.

                The trot of hooves outside stirred Peter from his thoughts. He peered out the doorway to find Nefyn escorting a very pale and sickly Lucy to her chambers. “What’s going on here?” he asked, concern immediately coursing through his veins. Every other thought from moments before melted from his mind.

                “I’m fine, Peter. Really” Lucy insisted.

                Nefyn shook her head. “Lucy has fallen ill. I’m taking her back to be treated and examined by my father.”

                “Wait, ill? With what?” Peter asked.

                “Don’t know yet” Nefyn replied. “Definitely not food poisoning. Surely not any other kind of poisoning.”

                “What do you mean ‘other kind of poisoning’? What’s going on?” Peter asked, growing more and more frantic every second. Lucy placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him sternly.

                “Listen to me, Peter: I am fine. Nothing is wrong with me! I don’t want you to worry one bit” she insisted. And thus Nefyn tugged her along back to her chamber. Peter watched with dismay as they disappeared, his positivity quickly vanishing. He looked back out upon the sea and sucked in a deep breath. He desperately prayed that they would return home soon.

                The journey was long and uneventful, the days laced with worry about their dear Lucy. Peter, Susan, and Edmund checked on her as often as they could—or at least as often as Aesop would let them. And in the meantime, they prepared themselves for the tsunami of responsibility that lie ahead. They had been away from home for so long, surely a stack of paperwork a mile high would await them upon their return. Regardless of that rude awakening, however, the sight of Cair Paravel hazy on the horizon was a rushing welcome of relief and happiness. To finally be back home, in one’s own comfortable bed, among the same familiar and friendly faces.

                Tumnus and the Beavers were already there on the docks prepared to greet them with open arms and warm smiles. Lucy hugged her dear friend tightly, bombarding him with questions all on what they had missed, and kissed each of the Beavers on the head. She had finally started to feel a bit better a day or two prior, no longer vomiting or complaining of stomach cramps. As happy as they all were to see her up and about and well again, deep down her siblings still felt a twinge of paranoia as to what made her so sick in the first place. Surely there had to be some cause. Falling ill like that was so unlike her. Whenever they questioned her about it, however, she’d narrow her eyes at them and tell them to stop treating her like a child, that nothing was the matter with her and they should just be grateful she’s feeling better without all of this interrogation. The attitude was also quite unlike Lucy but in an effort to not face another barrage of frustration from her, they tried their best to keep their mouths shut on the subject.

“Did we miss anything important while we were gone?” Peter asked. Tumnus furrowed his brows and twiddled as his fingers as he recounted the past few weeks.

“Nothing too extraordinary, your highness. Just some routine paperwork and things” he replied. Then, as if a lightbulb had suddenly switched on in his head, he exclaimed “Oh! And there is one other thing. A few days ago, a message was delivered to you from Brenn. I’m not quite sure what it may be about, but I suggest you take a close look at it to be safe.” Peter’s heart leapt into his throat. He patted the faun on the shoulder and thanked him before stepping inside the castle and heading up to his office.

It felt weird returning home after such a long journey, and for more than just the obvious reasons. Before they had left, he was depressed and defeated. Everything reminded him of Eilonwy. His heart ached for the days when she was still there. Now, the pain was certainly still present, but something in him felt different. There was a numbness. Everything still reminded him of her, but he felt no adverse reaction deep inside of himself. No urge to cry passing her chamber or seeing her engagement ring still sitting upon his dresser. Instead, there was just…emptiness. He thought of the wooden figurine Lucy had given him for Christmas, the way it snapped in half when Ginevra tossed it across the room. A sour taste rose into the back of his mouth. He turned his attention to the letter on his desk sealed with pale wax stamped with Brenn’s crest. He opened it carefully, something immediately falling from the folded page. He leaned down to pick up the trinket as he skimmed the letter, finding Ginevra’s signature at the bottom. _You seemed so awestruck by my ribbons when last you were here, that I felt it necessary to make you one of your own. Consider it a token of our friendship, and of my gratitude to you for all you have taught me in the short time which you spent with us._ In his opposite hand was a tiny ribbon kite of folded baby blue ribbon, his name scrawled on the tail in gorgeous gold calligraphy. A smile touched his lips and suddenly, a strange sensation began overtaking his body. It was a sort of blossoming from the center of his chest, something full of hope and warmth and kindness. It was uncertainty and excitement, as if his entire body had been electrified from a deep sleep he was unaware he was in. Peter glanced to the letter once more, then gazed out his window at the landscape spread before him. This was the first time in a long time that he had ever felt anything remotely close to this, or what he suspected this was. Deep within him, something equally awesome and terrifying had begun to take root.


	12. VOL 2, EP. 24: Lucy's Troubles

                Sunlight glinted on the Eastern Ocean and filled the dining hall with a welcoming morning glow. Peter hummed as he seated himself for breakfast, having spent the past few days in a cheery haze. His heightened mood definitely made the return home that much smoother. It was so refreshing to see him happy again. Susan smiled softly toward him, thinking to herself of how proud Lucy must have felt knowing her trip was such a success. She had achieved what she set out to do: to take Peter’s mind off of Eilonwy and to bring him back to center.

                The gentle glanced to her younger sister, plate piled high with fluffy waffles doused in berries and cream. “I’m glad to see your stomach has made a full recovery” she chuckled. Lucy, however, was not amused. She grimaced, cheeks bulging with excess food, before swallowing and firing back at her sister.

                “Well sorry for being hungry, Susan!” she snapped. The entire room fell into a brief silence, the Pevensies glancing at one another in uncertainty. It seemed as if Lucy’s mood was plummeting faster and faster since they left Brenn, and for no obvious reason. She was temperamental, unhinged, and perhaps even a little bit scary. It was as if one word sent her flying off the handle these days.

                “I was just trying to say I’m glad to see you’re feeling better” Susan murmured, nervously sipping her tea.

                Lucy rolled her eyes. “Not like there was anything seriously wrong with me to begin with” she spat.

                “I mean, not that everything was alright with you” Edmund murmured. Susan kicked him under the table, a warning sign not to fuel the fire, but it was too late. He had already spoken and Lucy heard it loud and clear.

                “What’s that supposed to mean?” she panicked, slamming a fist on the table.

                “You haven’t exactly been yourself lately, Lu! I think that’s obvious. I think we had, and have, every right to be worried about you” he explained.

                The valiant narrowed her eyes at him as she rose from her seat. “I wish you’d all stop treating me like such a child! Nothing is wrong with me! I am fine! Now can you all just kindly leave me alone?!” she shouted. She glared at each of her siblings before stuffing one last massive bite of breakfast into her mouth and storming out of the room. Susan watched her leave, defeated, before sighing and burying her face in her hands. If Lucy said she was fine, she should trust her enough to believe that what she said was true. She hated feeling skeptical, and yet seeing the valiant in such a state left her feeling nothing but.  She and Lucy had always had an almost telepathic bond. Whenever one was in danger or facing hardship, they could count on the other for kindness and confidence. Now, however, it was as if Lucy had built an impenetrable wall. Susan couldn’t read her anymore.

                In the following days, Lucy distanced herself even more. Any and all questions were met with blunt, sarcastic replies and she never wanted to spend time with anyone. Every so often, Susan would catch her sitting beneath a tree doodling in a leather-bound journal or reading some dusty book from the library. And every time she saw her, Susan grew more and more concerned. After a while, she began seeking her sister out, hoping for just a glimpse of the little girl she had always known. A smile. A laugh. Anything. She tried to be as discrete as possible, peering around pillars and creeping around corners. So long as Lucy couldn’t see her. Like one big game of hide and seek. Lucy used to love hide and seek.

                It was one afternoon, standing on the balcony, when Lucy reached her peak. Hair loose and flowing with the wind, she gazed out at the sea absently. Susan peeked past the doorway, trying to remain as quiet as possible, but in a big room such as that it was hard to hide the sound of footfalls echoing on marble. Lucy’s back shot ramrod straight, snapped of her quiet daze. She whipped around, fire in her eyes, and grimaced at her sister. “I knew you were following me around!” she shouted in accusation.

                Susan recoiled, raising her hands in surrender. “Now, Lucy, let’s try not to get feisty—”

                The valiant pushed closer. “Is a smidge of privacy impossible around here? Why can’t I just get some time to myself without everyone jumping on me as if I’m committing a crime!” she shouted.

                “We’re not trying to criminalize you, Lu!” Susan replied. “We just want to know what’s going on with you! What’s the matter?”

                “Nothing is the matter!” Lucy groaned. “Why are you all so insistent that something is wrong?”

                “Because, Lucy, you’re acting strange and it worries us. You got seasick on the trip home, you don’t want anything to do with us, you explode at every turn!” said the gentle. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy but I just wish you’d tell me what’s going on because I know something is bothering you. I’m your sister, remember? I know these things.”

                Lucy rolled her eyes and turned her back to her sister. “I told you before, I’m fine. Now can you please just leave me alone?”

                Susan paused and pursed her lips, her eyes boring holes into the valiant’s back. She didn’t think she had ever seen her sister quite so defiant. Truthfully, it hurt her a little bit. Didn’t Lucy trust her? They stood there in a heavy silence for a few moments more before Susan sighed and shook her head. “You know what, Lucy? No. I can’t just leave you alone. You’ve been playing this game for far too long now. I have every right to be worried about you, and now it’s gone too far. I’m not leaving until you give me an answer. I’ll ask you again: what is going on?”

                Grimacing, Lucy turned to glare at her sister from her periphery. “I don’t know why you bother. I’m not saying a word” she growled. “And besides,” she then added under her breath, “It’s not like you’d understand anyways.”

                “Lucy, understand what?” Susan pressed. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is. I’m not here to judge you, you know. Come on, Lucy, please. Just trust me.”

                The valiant rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she turned to face her sister and lean against the railing. She refused to meet Susan’s eyes. “You wouldn’t understand, because I doubt you’ve ever felt the way I do.”

                “Lucy…” Susan said softly. “You can’t say that. You’ll never know unless you tell me. And if I really don’t understand, I would like to try to. I want to. Please.”

                “You’d never understand because…because you’re perfect!” Lucy suddenly exclaimed. “I doubt you’ve ever felt the way I have because nothing ever goes wrong for you.”

                “Oh, Lucy, that’s ridiculous!” Susan said. “Lucy, no one is perfect. I truly mean that. I may not always show when something is bothering me, but that doesn’t mean things haven’t gone wrong for me, either.”

                By now, tears were brimming behind Lucy’s eyes. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, sniffled “You’re just saying that,” and shook her head. “I know for a fact you don’t know how I feel because…because you’re beautiful and I’m a disgusting monster!”

                “Lucy!” Susan shouted. Standing there, watching her baby sister inexplicably implode upon herself and say such horrible things, she couldn’t stand it one second more. She rushed forward and wrapped the valiant tightly in her arms, and to Susan’s surprise she didn’t fight back. Instead, she fell into her embrace and gripped at Susan’s dress desperately. “Lucy, listen to me: you are not disgusting and you are not a monster. Why would you ever think that?”

                “Because…there’s something seriously wrong with me, Susan. I swear it” Lucy blubbered. “I feel so…so lonely and strange. I miss mum and dad and Aslan…especially Aslan! Oh, Susan, it’s been so long since we’ve seen him! I wish he’d come back to us but…but even if he did, I don’t think he’d be very happy to see me. He’s punishing me.”

                Susan brushed the stray strands of hair away from her sister’s face. “What do you mean? How is he punishing you? And whatever for?”

                “It’s all my fault…everything that happened with…with Edmund and the…the mermaid. It’s all because of me. I made a big mistake and now…now Aslan is punishing me” the valiant explained. “He’s torturing me every day, I feel him clamping his jaws around my stomach all the time.”

                The gentle rubbed at her sister’s back in comfort, trying to comprehend what she was saying. “What do you mean he’s clamping his jaws around you?” she asked with great concern.

                Lucy placed a hand on her stomach. “Every day…it hurts. My stomach hurts so much. And it’s not just that. Everything hurts. I feel like I no longer have control of my body. I’m so mean, and my head aches and my stomach aches and my legs and my back ache. I feel fat and disgusting and ugly. None of my clothes fit quite like they used to. Susan, what’s wrong with me? Why is Aslan doing this? I-I’m so…I’m so scared and stressed and I just…I just want it to stop.” The little queen buried her head in her sister’s chest and wailed as if someone very dear to her had just died.

                Susan hugged her sister a little tighter, lightly rocking her back and forth just as she had when they were small and she had helped her mother lure baby Lucy to sleep. All the while, however, she was doing the calculations in her head. And then it suddenly hit. Pulling the handkerchief from her dress pocket, she titled Lucy’s chin upward and wiped away her tears. “Lucy, I promise, you have nothing to be worried about. I know exactly what’s going on.”

                “You do?” she sniffled, brushing her hair back behind her ears. The gentle nodded.

                “Meet me in the library this afternoon, at 2pm sharp, alright? I’ll explain everything” she said with a reassuring smile. Lucy nodded slowly. The way she stared up at her sister reminded Susan of the old days when Lucy was a rambunctious toddler, when she’d come running down the lane wailing with blood dripping down her knees. Susan would scoop her up in her arms, carry her upstairs to the bathroom, clean her cuts, and paste clean bandages on them. She’d warn her about how she needs to be more careful, that she needs to watch where she’s going or not jump so high from the back porch stairs or not to pick fights with boys. Of course Lucy never listened. It had only felt like just yesterday, and yet Susan knew now that time had passed much quicker than she anticipated. As she rose from her seat and ventured back inside the castle, she glanced back at her sister and for a moment, she didn’t even recognize her. She was taller, leaner, her figure slightly curvier and her hair longer. The valiant may have lied about being fine, but one thing was for certain: she definitely spoke the truth about no longer being a child.

                That afternoon, as Peter and Edmund returned from a sparring match on the lawn, strange sounds captured their attention from down the hall. They followed it all the way to the library where they found Susan pushing tables together and propping open dozens upon dozens of various books.

                “What’s all this about?” Edmund asked, peering at the contents of their pages.

                “I’ve figured out what’s wrong with Lucy, so I decided to give her a little demonstration” she replied. The longer the boys inspected her display, the more they realized there was something afoot they were not easily equipped to handle. Most of the books laid open upon the table held rather graphic anatomical drawings of the female reproductive system, sexual intercourse, fetal development, and childbirth.

                Peter blinked a few times, awestruck. There was one image in particular that captured his interest, an anatomical drawing of a baby crowning. There was something so abstract and bizarre about it, yet simultaneously inspiring and incredible. To think, this was the way every human being entered the world, and that every woman was capable of something so raw and strenuous. That women did this the world over every day. As he stared, he began to paint a picture beyond the science. He began to envision the woman in the drawing, her tight grip and clenched teeth and raw power. He wondered who she was, how many other children she may have had, if she was happily married or widowed or even, dare he say, a whore. Regardless of what she was, however, he could see her face clearly in the back of his mind. Dark, matted hair; pale, clammy skin; ferocious brows and crooked teeth and a bony, muscular figure. He shook the thoughts from his mind. This was no one in particular. Just a body made of lines on a page in a book. Nothing more, nothing less. He drew his mind back to the subject at hand, of Lucy and her troubles and Susan’s apparent conclusion. He saw the drawings, and he knew of Lucy’s troubles, but what did it even mean? There was something bridging the gap that he couldn’t quite figure out. “What does all of this have to do with Lucy?” he asked, eyes wading to another drawing of ovaries and the uterus.

                Susan paused in the middle of propping open yet another book, looking to her older brother bluntly. “Mum never had that talk with you…?” Peter stared at her for a moment, a puzzled expression painting his face, before they were interrupted by a small and hesitant voice.

                “What talk?” Lucy asked from the doorway. The two eldest Pevensies whipped around to face her, pasting smiles on their faces so as not to scare her away. Susan pranced forward, taking the valiant by the hands and slowly guiding her further into the library.

                “Lu, you were right to tell us to stop treating you like a child because the truth is, you’re not a child anymore. And that’s what I’m here to talk with you about” she replied. Lucy peered at all the books sprawled across the table, catching glimpses of the very detailed drawings on the page. There was something unsettling about them, something that made her skin crawl. If this was going to be about internal organs, she’d much rather they stay inside of her body, thank you very much.

                Noticing the look of panic on his sister’s face, Peter nudged Edmund and whispered, “I think that’s our cue to go.” The just, however, had apparently grown rather entranced with the same image Peter had, wide eyes locked on the page. It took all Peter had to pry him away from it, whispering as they exited the room “You can look at it later, Ed.”

                Lucy watched them disappear in the same way that a young child watches their parents leave on the first day of preschool. She knew whatever awaited her would be far more awkward with her brothers in attendance, but their absence made her feel vulnerable and small. “Okay, Susan, you can tell me what this is all about now” she said nervously. Susan waltzed over to the tables and invited her sister to take a closer look.

                “I wanted to show you some things” Susan replied. She waved her hand over the books likes a saleswoman, trying to pitch the idea of puberty to her baby sister.

                “What are all of these?” Lucy replied, scrunching her nose up. They were all so detailed, and the text identifying each part was so tiny and hard to read.

                “This is the female reproductive system” Susan began, proceeding to educate the valiant on all the organs involved and their functions. Lucy listened intently, head tilted slightly to the side. She explained the process of menstruation and ovulation, the hormonal shifts involved, the role sexual intercourse plays in her body’s functionality, conception and gestation and childbirth. Susan tried her hardest to hide her amusement at some of Lucy’s reactions, the shock and fear and disgust crossing her face. “The reason I’m showing you all of this, Lu, is because you’re not a little girl anymore. Everything you’re feeling right now is just your rite of passage into becoming a woman. I know it’s scary because I felt the same way when I was your age but it’s just something we all learn to cope with. It’s all part of being a woman.”

                “So you mean to say that all of this is just a bunch of things I’m going to have to face sooner or later?” Lucy asked. Susan nodded.

                “It’s really nothing to be scared of, though, Lu. Every woman on the planet, no matter the species, goes through the same thing every month. We all understand what you’re going through. If you ever have any questions or fears, you can always come to me and I will do my best to help you” she explained. “As for everything else, they’re just things you’ll come to experience in time.”

                Lucy peered at the images once more, especially the diagrams of childbirth and sexual intercourse. Having a baby looked so painful, and everything that sex entailed just seemed so disgusting and messy. “I don’t have to do any of this extra stuff, do I?”

                “I mean, nobody said you were required to” Susan began. “Why do you ask?”

                “Well, for starters, this sexual intercourse thing looks disgusting” she stated with a shiver.

                The gentle couldn’t help but laugh. “It may seem gross now, Lu, but you’ll change your mind when you’re older” she replied with a reassuring pat on the back. Lucy gazed up at her sister skeptically, unsure of how she would ever feel differently about something so strange and sticky and sickening, but she didn’t want to completely discredit her sister’s words. After all, she was far more experienced in matters of the female body than Lucy was.

                By the time the valiant left the library that day, something within her felt changed. There was a sense of relief in finding answers, especially when the questions were so daunting and complex. A tinge of excitement resided in her chest, as well. To think, she was finally becoming a woman. No longer would anyone have the sick privilege of belittling her or drowning out her voice for being “just a kid.” She was entering the big leagues now, standing on equal terms with the grown-ups. The thought of these new privileges was exhilarating and, truthfully, outrageously empowering. As she strolled down the hall, she walked a little straighter, held her head a little higher. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and tried to imagine what she would look like when she was older. She hoped she would become as dignified and beautiful as Susan and their mother.

                That night, as she prepared for bed, however, the negative thoughts began creeping in from the darkness. She took a good look at her bedroom and everything in it, at the plush lion she had been gifted back so many months ago when she couldn’t sleep. Everything in this room was a reflection of who she was, and yet everything she saw reflected that of a child. Suddenly, nothing appeared as bright and welcoming as it once had. A tiny ache lodged itself in her chest. She had been so preoccupied with what she would gain from growing up, she had yet to stop and think about everything she would have to sacrifice. Deep down, a tiny part of her suddenly felt as if it was dying. What if she changed too much? What if she lost her childlike wonder and optimism and joy? She had seen so many grow dull and depressed with age. Susan was once a fun-loving, carefree child but the war made her skeptical and weary. What if the same was to come for Lucy? She couldn’t bear the thought. She genuinely liked who she was. She didn’t want to change.

                As she climbed into bed, she thought of Aslan. She clutched her plush lion to her chest and wondered where in the world her dear friend may be, what he thought of all of this, if he knew in some infinite wisdom all that they had been through so far, if he was watching over them, if he still cared, and when he was coming back—if at all. With a sigh, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and clasped her hands together until her knuckles turned white. A part of her felt stupid for doing this, as if he could even hear her from wherever she was, but she didn’t know what else to do. Regardless of Susan’s assurances from earlier, it was late and she didn’t want to wake her sister up for something as petty and base as her midnight worries. And so all she could do was curl up with her plush lion and pray to the mystical beast somewhere beyond in hopes of finding some soft-spoken answer.


	13. VOL 2, EP 25: Mother Narnia

                Autumn had once again befallen Narnia and with it, the country had grown rather hectic with preparations. The construction for Susan’s orphanage had finally reached its completion, Mrs. Beaver helping to add the finishing touches for it’s grand opening. Susan often ventured off to oversee the progress, ensuring that everything was just so. She had truly grown rather frantic and obsessive over it, but such was only natural with a project as grand as this.

                “I’m sure everything will be fine” Lucy assured the gentle. Susan peered over the paperwork cluttering her desk, trying to organize her thoughts. The youngest queen placed a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder to steady her mind. “You’re doing a good thing, Susan. The Narnians are going to be so grateful for this, I promise. Try not to worry yourself!”

                “I know, Lu” Susan replied, voice worn out. “I suppose I’m just nervous. This is a rather grand affair and I’m scared of something going wrong. All the dignitaries in the neighboring lands will be in attendance and I want to make a good impression. I want them to see what I’ve done and to feel proud and impressed.” Lucy nodded in understanding, though she continued to reassure her sister that everything would be fine. In her mind, there was nothing to fear. Susan glanced back over her paperwork, eyes shifting to a stack of returned RSVPs. Almost all of the neighboring countries had agreed to come, including one particular family of interest.

                The morning sun beat down on the docks as the Pevensies rushed to greet their guests. Lucy clasped her sister’s hand as they nodded and smiled at each lord and lady that approached, Tumnus and the Beavers escorting them inside and showing them to their chambers. And then there was her. Peter’s heart leapt into his throat as he saw a familiar blonde woman step off the ship, calling behind her something about her trunks. She was dressed in a rather airy pink gown with her hair piled high atop her head and adorned with a small feathered hat tilted just so. She turned and scurried down the docks to wrap her arms around Susan jovially, shrieking with delight and congratulating her. Susan hugged her back, thanking her profusely for coming.

                “Well, it was a little short notice but I wouldn’t worry, darling. I’m here, aren’t I?” she replied. Peter knew her in an instant. Standing before him was none other than Ginevra of Brenn.

                His cheeks grew hot and his hands began to twitch at his sides. Of all the guests he was expecting to greet this morning, she was certainly not one of them. Her father, Duke Rochester, followed close behind, grinning at the four monarchs and bowing down low to them.

                “A fine morning, your majesties” he greeted.

                “It’s wonderful to see you, Duke Rochester. How was your trip?” Susan asked.

                “Oh, absolutely dreadful!” Ginevra replied. “It was such a long journey, and the seas were so unforgiving, I could barely stand it!”

                Duke Rochester chuckled and nodded, then added, “But luckily we made it in one piece, didn’t we, Ginny?” Ginevra nodded quickly, then began rambling about how beautiful Cair Paravel looked and how excited she was to see the inside. Susan told her once she was settled into her chamber, she would have to give the girl a tour. “And it’s wonderful to see you again, as well, your majesty” Duke Rochester then said, turning and bowing to Peter.

                “The pleasure is all mine” he replied. He tried his best to keep his composure but his eyes kept flitting back to Ginevra, and hers to him. Before being escorted inside, she bowed and smiled curtly at him, greeting him with the utmost civility and politeness. He watched her walk away and a mild relief washed over him. Despite their conversation before leaving Brenn, he still feared interaction between them. Old habits die hard, after all, and for all he knew whatever he said could very well have not stuck. He was grateful to find that so far, she was perfectly pleasant but that meant nothing. He couldn’t stop thinking about her the entire rest of the morning, as the remaining guests filtered out of their vessels and into the castle. While relieved to find her behaving so appropriately, at the same time he felt almost bothered by her courtly manner. He expected something far more extroverted of her, even if he didn’t necessarily want it. Now that he knew that was not what he was getting, though, his mind raced. She was much harder to read like this, playing things lowkey and collected. Perhaps deep down, he really did want some sort of reaction from her. Perhaps he wanted her to say something to him, to show him some sort of sign that the feelings she had expressed still existed. That wasn’t to say he was at all ready for another relationship, not in the slightest, and yet…feeling wanted was nice, he supposed.

                “I wish you would’ve warned me first” Peter whispered to his sister as they filed back inside the castle. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to face Ginevra today.”

                Susan sighed and smoothed her hair. “Out of all the other things I’ve had to do in preparation for this event, and you’re complaining about this?” she huffed.

                The magnificent blinked a few times, having not expected his sister to grow so short with him. He truly appreciated all the hard work she was doing in order for everything to run smoothly, but he had to admit a little notice at least would’ve been nice. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucy placed a hand on his forearm and shot him a secondary gaze. A gaze that told him to rethink. Susan did not need this additional stress right now. He looked to her once more, studying the bags under her eyes and the tight clench of her fists, and closed his mouth.

                Lucy tightened her shawl around her shoulders as she stood beside her siblings in the orphanage’s atrium. Everything was in order: the dignitaries were waiting, the ribbon was ready to be cut, Peter had his sword ready at his side. Susan read her speech over once, twice, as many as five times in an effort to ensure she did not mess up at all. She paced the little enclosure the entire time.  

                “Su, I feel like I’m watching a one-woman tennis match” Edmund remarked. The gentle shot him a dirty look. Peter placed a hand on Edmund’s shoulder.

                “Just let her be, Ed. She’s nervous, and understandably so” the High King commented.

                “You’re one to talk, Peter!” Lucy laughed. She could tell that he, too, was internalizing panic and she knew exactly why. Out there, among the crowd, was Ginevra. In the past two days since she had arrived, Peter had hardly spoken to her let alone even looked her in the eyes. She, too, kept her distance from him, an awkward energy pulsing between them. Unspoken words and ignored feelings begged to surface.

                Peter shook his head, a pleading in his eyes for Lucy not to bring it up. He didn’t want to think about such things. He didn’t want to make his anxiety worse not only for his own sake but for Susan’s as well. If he started having a panic attack, surely it would trigger an even greater one from her. Susan had worked far too hard the past year to get here, he didn’t dare ruin her day. They needed to be gentle with her, at least until all of this had passed. She deserved an environment of tranquility while she prepared.

                The door to the atrium creaked open and Mrs. Beaver peered inside. “Are you ready, love?” she asked the gentle queen. Susan’s eyes grew wide with shock.

                “What? It can’t possibly be time, I’m—I’m not ready yet!” she protested. If only she had been wearing a watch to confirm her suspicions, but Mrs. Beaver simply toddled forward and took Susan’s hand in hers.

                “Don’t you worry, dear. Everything will be fine” she reassured. “They’re all waiting for you!” Susan giggled nervously, glanced over her shoulder to her siblings in desperation. Peter shot her a kind smile, motioning for the others to follow suit. This was a family affair, after all, and even if it wasn’t, it was their job as siblings to support one another. As they reached the makeshift stage in front of the building, Susan paused to collect herself. She smoothed her skirts, perfected her hair, dabbed some color on her lips, sucked in a deep breath, and then nodded to Mrs. Beaver to alert that she was ready. Mr. Beaver announced her and motioned for her to step forward, and it was as if all the panic had melted away. Susan held herself gracefully and confidently, stepping to the middle of the stage with parchment in hand. Her siblings couldn’t help but smile as they watched her and followed to stand nearby.

                The gentle gazed out to all the faces in the crowd staring back at her and swallowed hard. She could not let them see her panic. They needed to understand she was a poised and proper queen, one avid in public speaking and social affairs. She felt as if she was a child in school again giving a presentation on the history of Marie Antoinette or the colonization of the Americas. This, however, was nothing like a school presentation. These were not her peers but her equals, those in high positions of power who would not grade her for accuracy but judge her silently and create their own perceptions of her country based on the way she carried herself. This was, perhaps, the one part of being a queen that she hated more than anything.

                There was no backing down now, though. She had to do what she had to do. Clearing her throat, she glanced down to her parchment and began her speech. “Ladies and gentleman from far and wide, I want to begin by thanking you all for being here today. I know it means as much to me as it does to my brothers and sister that you were able to be in attendance” she began. Vacant eyes stared back at her, making her question her form and diction. She continued regardless. “A year and a half ago, my siblings and I were appointed kings and queens of this lovely country and have since wanted nothing more than to provide it with everything it may need now and in the coming years. We love our country more than anything. We’re proud of our country. It is not without its flaws, however. One such flaw I saw across all regions, however, was that of wayward children. Our nation is comprised mainly of Intelligent Beasts, and in a land of such wonderful creatures, there is bound to be strife and turmoil at some point in their lives. Many of these Beasts, especially during the reign of the White Witch, Jadis, were senselessly killed for reasons beyond comprehension, thus leaving their children to fend for themselves. Children unable to take care of themselves and live on their own. Hence why I decided that the best course of action would be to build a safe place for them, somewhere they can be provided a warm bed and food and drink and a sense of companionship and safety. I have poured my heart and soul into this orphanage in order to ensure it will provide everything necessary for the proper development of wayward children now and into the future. My siblings can account for the many nights my comrades and I have spent planning, designing, and constructing such a place. I am overwhelmed with joy to see it finally completed, and hope it will welcome those in need with warmth and love and comfort.” She glanced around at the crowd once again, searching for a sign of pride or happiness in their faces. After a few moments, a wave of clapping erupted among them and Susan’s fears began to subside. She looked to her older brother, signaling it was time. He nodded and stepped forward, unsheathing his sword and handing it to her. It was heavy in her hands, a weapon she was not used to, but she wielded it decently enough. “And so, without further ado, our Narnian orphanage is officially open!” she announced, then sliced through the ribbon with the blade. Another roar of clapping erupted, and Susan’s eyes fell on a proudly grinning Ginevra. The blonde gave the gentle a brief motion of happiness and pride, something Narnian in nature that equated to a thumbs-up in London. And then her eyes locked with Peter’s for the first time since she had arrived and he felt his heart race in his chest. He averted his eyes quickly, and her face fell slightly. Peter quickly sheathed his sword and regained composure so that nobody would know that inside his head, all he heard was inconsolable screaming.

                All of the guests congratulated Susan and enthused of how wonderful a job she did, how beautiful an orphanage it was, and how kind and generous an act this was. Surely the Narnian children would take to it as if it was their own home. Even the Narnians themselves thanked her for creating such a fine establishment, finding relief in knowing that there was someplace for their children to go should something ever happen to them.

                As evening set in, everyone returned to Cair Paravel for a grand reception. A band of fauns played roaring, raucous music for all the guests to jig and leap to, and there were long tables filled with the most delicious food. Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy sat at a grand table overlooking the whole of the garden and all of their guests. A wistful smile touched the now-tranquil Susan’s lips as she took another sip of her wine. “I suppose this was a rather successful event, after all” she commented. Lucy grinned and nodded.

                “Everyone loved it! And you did incredible!” the valiant enthused. She really was genuinely proud of her sister. Despite her panic earlier in the day, she presented herself with such confidence and poise that it was worth congratulations. Peter and Edmund nodded in agreement. They, too, were wildly proud of their sister, so happy to see the praise she had received for all of her hard work. Before Edmund could say anymore, however, Nefyn galloped over and tugged him onto the dancefloor despite his protests that he didn’t dance.

                “Why don’t you go out and find yourself a partner, as well?” Susan commented, nudging Peter on the arm. A sly smile touched her lips, one that made Peter mildly uncomfortable.

                “Me?” he asked, feigning stupidity. “I don’t think so, Su. I’m really not in the mood for—”

                “Oh, come on, Peter” Lucy chimed in. “I’m sure there’s plenty of young women out there dying to dance with the High King himself!”

                Peter shook his head nervously, turning to gaze out at the crowd twirling among one another like the choppy sea. His eyes, of course, immediately landed upon Ginevra. She swayed her hips to the music as she stood at the edge of the crowd, a glass of wine in hand. It was the perfect opportunity to approach her, but he wasn’t sure he had it in him. He didn’t want to stir the pot or involve himself in things he was nowhere near ready for yet. Worst case scenario she learned nothing of his argument with her and would yet again try to shove her breasts in his face and persuade him to love her. He still wasn’t ready to handle such a thing yet. He sat there hesitating for the next fifteen minutes, nervously watching her in his periphery, but then he caught her shift, turn, her eyes landing upon a most curious fixture: the statues of the Alexandre family. That was when he knew he needed to speak with her.

                He sidled up behind her and awkwardly cleared his throat, then said, “Enjoying yourself?”

                Ginevra gasped, snapping out of a trance, her cheeks burning red. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course darling. It’s an adorable little reception. Those fauns are especially cute!”

                “They have a wonderful ear for music” Peter commented. After a beat of silence, he then said, “I’m surprised you’re not dancing with everyone else.”

                “Well, you see, nobody asked me” Ginevra replied. If Peter hadn’t caught a slight undertone of anxiety in her own voice, he would’ve presumed she had, in fact, learned nothing. However, she said this so casually he couldn’t find an ounce of malicious intent in it. She was simply stating a fact. She turned her gaze back to the statues and added, “Besides, I’ve grown rather curious as to who these are.”

                Peter swallowed back the lump in his throat. “This is a monument to the Alexandre family, the last royal family before the White Witch invaded the country” he explained. He could feel his voice beginning to breaking in his throat, but fought to control his tone. “They were very important to my lost love, and so my siblings and I decided to erect this monument to them out of respect.”

                “You did all of this for her?” Ginevra asked. Peter nodded, unsure of whether she was jealous or impressed. “This love of yours must have been very special to you, you must have cared about her very much” she said quietly, swirling her wine around in her glass.

                The magnificent’s heart ached. “I do” he replied. He locked his eyes on the statues of her parents, her sisters. He prayed that she was here with him, beside him, in this garden celebrating with everyone else. After a few moments, Ginevra’s voice snapped him back to reality.

                “It’s funny” she said with a quiet giggle.

                “What is?” Peter asked.

                “All the things you have told me about this love of yours remind me so much of the stories I’ve heard of the lost Princess Eilonwy, the youngest daughter of the Alexandres” she said, then added, “Perhaps made even funnier by the fact that she must be the one daughter missing from the group here.”

                The minute her name spilled from Ginevra’s mouth, a sense of discomfort filled Peter’s body. He didn’t like the way she said it—Eilonwy’s name. He didn’t like the way it rolled off her lips with that accent of hers. And he definitely did not like the implication that she was lost regardless of how true it was. “What do you know about her?” he asked, curiosity taking precedence.

                “Well, legend has it that she survived the massacre that fateful night because rumors swirled that the body was never recovered. I don’t know much else about her, however, except that she was the black sheep of the family. As far as I can tell, far and wide the other nobles would joke about her behind her back for being so brash and impolite, saying they were grateful she was merely a spare rather than heir to the throne. After all, a princess has no place on battlefields. Shooting arrows and swinging swords—it’s terrible! So barbaric and disgusting, I could never…” Ginevra explained, scrunching up her face as she spoke about Eilonwy. Peter’s heart ached: here she was vilifying everything that Peter loved most about his lover. He found nothing barbaric or disgusting about it—had it not been for her expertise, he may never have felt fully prepared for the Battle of Beruna.

                “You seem to know more than you think you do” Peter replied. “Where did you learn all of this, anyway?”

                “My tutor taught me” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’re kind of required to know the history of these lands, you know. After all, Narnia is a rather large and influential land, darling! We ought to have some understanding of its backstory.”

                “What else do you know about the Alexandre family?” he asked. He was genuinely curious. To tell the truth, he hadn’t learned much about Narnia’s history beyond its creation and its downfall when Jadis usurped the throne. Everything else was rather blurry and rushed.

                “You act like you don’t know the history of your own country!” Ginevra exclaimed. “What a terrible king you are” she added in jest, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. He could tell she was easing her way into flirtation but he decided not to stop her. So far, it wasn’t worth making a fuss about. He would wait until things escalated, if they did at all, and then bring up the inappropriateness of the action.

                “How do you know I don’t know? Maybe I’m just testing your knowledge” he replied.

                “Well, darling, I’m assuming if you did know then you’d be aware of our nations’ longstanding conflict” Ginevra replied. When Peter seemed uneducated on the matter, Ginevra took it upon herself to explain in great depth. “King Lorr, the last reigning king, had a younger brother named Solomon. The two of them didn’t get along very well, and Lorr banished Solomon under false pretenses. They disagreed on how they believed the country ought to be ruled. Solomon had wonderful ideas for bettering Narnia, but Lorr wanted nothing to do with them. I suppose he thought they were rather immoral or something, though I can’t possibly see why. Anyway, Lorr banished his own brother to the Isle of Sparrow, which at that time was kept as Narnia’s federal prison, but the ship veered off course and instead landed on an otherwise uninhabited island full of savages. Nothing but violent beasts with no sense of morality or modesty. This would’ve been a rather terrible fate had Solomon not been a wildly clever man and a bit of an opportunist, at that. He saw this as a chance to create his own nation based on his own ideals and values. He claimed the island for himself, naming himself duke as he felt as if that was a far more respectable title than king. After all, all the kings he had known up until this point were rather cruel to him, his father included—he thought Lorr was the far better son, and treated him as such because he was the heir. Solomon reformed the island by putting the natives to work and built a mansion atop a hill for himself, then invaded the Isle of Sparrow to release all of the prisoners who were wrongly accused to bring to his own nation. Among them was a woman named Catherine who was imprisoned for murder though there was never any proof of her crimes. Solomon married Catherine and together they ruled their country and brought numerous children into the world who carried on their legacy and continued to build upon Solomon’s empire, which thrived considerably when Narnia went under. Many of the humans in your land never believed Solomon would amount to anything, but when Jadis usurped the throne, they all fled to Brenn in hopes of seeking forgiveness and finding safety. Solomon was never a cruel man like his brother and father, so of course he accepted them with open arms. And thus was the beginning of what we know today as my lovely little island of Brenn!”

                Peter listened intently as Ginevra relayed this history to him, trying to make sense of it all. From what he had heard of King Lorr until now, he had never gotten any impression whatsoever that he was an inherently bad man. Eilonwy had undoubtedly been upset with him for not letting her join him in battle, but they both understood now it was simply a matter of keeping her safe. This, however, was far more sinister than anything he had heard of the man and Peter began to doubt its truth. How did he know Ginevra was not lying? How did he know she was not offering a biased account of the history? But then again, the more he thought about it the more he realized perhaps Eilonwy’s account was biased, as well. After all, Lorr was her father. She loved him dearly. He couldn’t imagine her saying anything bad about the man, especially in death. Ginevra, on the other hand, had no real personal connection with him and therefore she had no predisposed notions on him other than what she had heard in history lectures.

                “As you can certainly believe” Ginevra went on, “I don’t very much care for King Lorr. I don’t believe he was a very brilliant ruler. He may have never caused Narnia any huge problems, but as a man I don’t hold much respect for him. If you ask me, I think he could’ve stood to be a little more open-minded to my great-great-grandfather’s ideas. He had wonderful ideas, but Lorr wouldn’t hear a word of it. He was far too rash and vicious. He lacked compassion and surely acted on impulse. Who banishes their own brother like that? Could you ever imagine doing such a thing?”

                And truthfully, Peter couldn’t. No matter what transgressions Edmund may commit, he could never imagine banishing him for them. He cared about his brother far too much. His brief stint with the White Witch was proof enough of that. “I’m sorry to hear of all this” Peter finally spoke. “I had no idea our two nations had been at wit’s end with one another over something so trivial and petty.”

                “It’s not your fault, darling. You had no clue” Ginevra replied, resting a hand on his upper arm. “As terrible as it all is, you know, I’m really rather grateful for what Lorr had done. If not for exiling his brother, Solomon never would’ve founded Brenn and made it what it is today: a truly prosperous nation that values trade and a time-tested caste system where everyone belongs someplace. Everyone has a purpose. It’s a rich, beautiful land that truly showcases that anyone can rise to greatness through adversity! Hence our national motto: _grandez à travers le sol atteindre le soleil._ ”

                “What does that mean?” Peter asked.

                “Directly translated, it means ‘grow through the ground to reach the sun’, but it’s more of a metaphor for our resilience” Ginevra explained with a light giggle. Peter nodded, turning the phrase over in his mind. Truly, it was a beautiful statement. He had no idea how much adversity her nation had faced due to his own, but with that knowledge he had a greater amount of respect for Brenn than ever before. He always did appreciate an underdog.

                “I like that” Peter replied. Then, after a few moments, he added, “I am genuinely sorry for what’s happened in the past between our nations, though. If I were king then, I would’ve never allowed such a travesty.”

                A soft smile graced Ginevra’s pink, glossy lips. “That’s quite alright, darling. Like I said, things worked out alright in the end. I know many people in Brenn still hold much contempt toward Narnia, but I hope someday our two countries can mend those bonds that had been broken so many years ago. It’s time we sought compassion and forgiveness in this world.”

                Peter nodded, a small smile beginning to spread across his own lips. He gazed back up at the statues of the old monarchs with a new perspective. King Lorr looked different to him now. For so long he had considered the man to be infallible and their death untimely, but Ginevra added a whole new layer to his understanding of these people. Perhaps they weren’t as perfect as he had always believed them to be. Perhaps they really weren’t worthy of so much praise. His stomach churned at the thought of having made a mistake in honoring them in this way. He wanted to be a good king, and if King Lorr was not a prime example then what did that say about him, erecting statues of him and his family? He thought about the guests drinking and dancing not too far off and wondered if they had noticed the statues, too. Did they all think Lorr was as terrible as Ginevra made him out to be, or was she just exaggerating? And if their thoughts did align with hers, then what message did that send to them about he and his siblings? His mind swirled with thought after thought, growing dizzy with contemplation. There was only one thing he knew for certain right now. Turning back to Ginevra, he nodded and replied, “One hundred years is long enough. I think its time we gave each other another chance to forgive and fix the past.”

                Ginevra smiled up at him, his hair a golden halo in the setting sunlight, and it was then that she knew as well as he did that this was the dawn of a new era, one in which their two nations would amend the transgressions of the past and forge a path together.


	14. VOL 2, EP 26: Winds of Change

                As summer made way for autumn and the eve of winter fell upon Narnia, the country saw a surge of prosperity and growth. Susan’s orphanage filled with children just in time for the bitter cold, and there she had the kindest of souls hired to care for them. She had made a habit of visiting nearly every week to meet with them and tell them stories from another world, fairytales like Peter Pan and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs the likes of which her mother would read to her and Lucy when they were young. Edmund’s mind ran wild with ideas for bettering the country, including the implementation of indoor plumbing in Cair Paravel, and Lucy had become increasingly sociable—so much so that she was riding through the woods thrice a week meeting with new and wonderful friends.

                As for Peter, he had trouble keeping up with all the excitement occurring in the nation but was happy about it just the same. His mood had been on the rise ever since their return from Brenn, the others assuming perhaps Ginevra had something to do with it. She kept in contact with both Peter and Susan dutifully, sending them each messages at least once a week. With Susan, they spoke mostly of fashion and men. With Peter, they spoke of the things going on in their lives and the weather and interesting new discoveries like hollowed out books in the library hiding heirlooms from the days of old and flowers that retained their luster come wintertime.

                By Wednesday, Peter was certain he would receive another message from Ginevra at any moment. He lounged in the chair in his office unable to concentrate on anything else. And then there was a knock at the window and before him was Hermes, their gryphon messenger. Peter swung the window open and ushered him inside, an excited grin touching the High King’s face. “Afternoon, Hermes. Anything interesting for me?” he asked. He would know the letter when he saw it, stamped shut with rose gold wax and probably hiding another ribbon kite. Ginevra had made a habit of sending one with every message, and his collection had now reached a total of ten.

                Hermes, however, seemed far less enthused. There was anxiety in his face. He shook his head in disdain, replying, “I’m afraid I bring nothing but bad news.” Peter’s face fell, urging the gryphon to please continue. His mind immediately jumped to Ginevra—what if something had happened to her? What if there was an invasion in Brenn and she had been injured, or worse…? He knew from recent reports that the islands had been in grave danger recently, a band of strange pirates targeting the little lands. Even Maldonado had suffered. Lord Lemuel had been killed. According to Ginevra, one of his confidants had survived the massacre and swam all the way to Brenn’s shores, spouting nonsense that the killer had been raped by the man once and was seeking revenge. Ginevra swore Lemuel’s confidant was crazy, that he must have swallowed too much seawater, but Peter wasn’t so quick to judge. He thought back to Lemuel’s visit so long ago, what he tried to do to Eilonwy…he could see the murder being justified, even if he didn’t completely agree with the act itself. Regardless, the news caused quite a stir in Peter’s mind. He wondered what else these pirates were capable of, or where they were planning to hit next. Brenn was only a short distance away. He didn’t want to think about it.

                “What seems to be trouble?” he asked Hermes, snapping out of his dark thoughts.

                “We’ve gotten word from the sentries on the northern border, they have reason to believe the giants from Ettinsmoor are planning an attack on castle Cair Paravel” the gryphon explained.

                Peter’s heart sank. He was glad Ginevra was safe, but what did this mean for him? This had never happened before. What was he supposed to do? Gather an army and fight them himself? And if he didn’t make it back alive, then what? His head spun and he sank into his chair with a sigh. How did he even know Hermes spoke the truth? He knew little of the northern sentries but perhaps they were just bored and trying to stir up trouble. If that was the case, they would surely receive a stern punishment for causing such unnecessary trouble. But even then, Hermes was not one to lie. He was an honorable gryphon, Peter knew this well. To think that any of this may in fact be true was horrifying.

                “What are your orders, your majesty?” Hermes asked after a few moments of silence. Truthfully, Peter didn’t know what to say. He knew what must be done, but didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to deal with it. Perhaps if he just ignored the situation, they would give up and go away. Then they’d be saved. But Peter knew better. Peter knew battles did not work that way. If it was a fight the giants wanted, they would pursue it relentlessly.

                Tenting his fingers, Peter sighed and looked upon the steadfast gryphon. “Gather the troops. I want them ready and able by tomorrow morning. By sunrise, we’ll head out to apprehend the situation.”

                Hermes nodded, alighting on the windowsill and then taking flight. The others heard him cawing in the air, caught sight of him circling the castle grounds, a sign that something was very wrong and they were due for a briefing. Susan, Edmund, and Lucy rushed alongside the other members of the court toward the grand hall where Peter stood waiting. There was a defeated glaze in his eyes that worried them greatly.

                “Peter, what on earth is going on?” Susan pressed, but he just shook his head and told her it would all be explained once everyone was seated. She didn’t want to accept so vague an answer but knew there was nothing more that could be done. She took her seat hesitantly and awaited the official announcements.

                Standing at the head of the table, Peter straightened his back and tried to appear as confident as possible, though he was struggling. It’s not particularly easy to compose oneself when all you can think about is your inevitable death. “I just received some very grave news this afternoon” he began. “Hermes has informed me that the northern sentries have reason to believe the giants of Ettinsmoor are planning an attack on Narnia.”

                “What? Where?” Susan gaped.

                “Here. At Cair Paravel” Peter began. “I’m unsure of their motives and of what damage they could do, but I’ve decided tomorrow morning to set out with an army to assess the situation and apprehend them if need be.”

                “Peter, that’s crazy!” Lucy exclaimed.

                “At least let us come with you” Edmund replied.

                “No, absolutely not” Peter said.

                “Why not?” Lucy countered.

                “Because I need you three here. If anything should happen…well, I don’t want to you all in danger. It’s better if I go myself. I’ll have others with me. I just can’t risk all of your lives along with mine. What would become of Narnia if something should happen to all four of us?” he explained. They didn’t want to admit it, but they all knew he was right.

                Edmund scowled and shook his head. “Well, if absolutely anything happens, just know we are rushing to your side whether you like it or not” he said sourly. He hated not being able to tag along—he thought surely he should at least be part of the army. He was a man, after all, and weren’t men prime for battle? But Peter wouldn’t hear of it. They needed to stay in Cair Paravel where they would be safe—or at least if he succeeded, they would be. If he was to fail, well…Aslan save them all.

                Something unnerving stirred in Peter’s chest that night as he packed his things. For a moment he was almost certain he was going to be sick, but nothing came of it. He never thought it would come to this, but he supposed nothing could remain calm forever. They were bound to face risks such as this sooner or later. He just hoped they would’ve come later. That meant nothing to what needed to be done now. He was the High King, after all. It was his duty to protect his country even if it cost him his life. Wasn’t that the whole reason why Aslan knighted him, and assigned him to such a prestigious position in the first place? He supposed so, though as of right now Peter did not feel very strong or brave. Rather, he was absolutely terrified. He felt like that schoolboy from Finchley all over again, first stepping foot in a magical land through a strange wardrobe and being told he would have to fight a witch. Unsure, unskilled, and unprepared. He remembered the giants in Jadis’s army and wondered if these were anything like them. He tried to envision fighting them, how much stronger they may be compared to himself. How many men would it take to kill just one? And what if there were ten, fifteen, twenty, or even two thousand? The odds were against him, that was clear enough. Even so, he still knew he had no choice but to set out in the morning and face these wild fears. Narnia depended on him. His family depended on him.

                 Come sunrise, Peter could scarcely eat. His siblings had risen as early as he did, fully prepared to see him off. If this battle was to be as brutal as they imagined, they were terrified of never seeing him again. They all huddled together in quiet melancholy, absorbing as much time together as they could. They didn’t want to ponder death, though their minds leapt back to the thought on their own accord anyways. They didn’t want to think of anything but spending time with one another, of racing to release any and all remaining thoughts and feelings they had should this be their last chance. The soldiers prepared their steeds, strapping saddle bags to their flanks and stocking up on feed. Besnik brayed and whinnied as Peter stroked his neck and stared into his pure white coat. He envisioned blood splattering across his body, staining him red, the casualties of war. He envisioned Besnik carrying his master home, lifeless and hanging over his flank. They would have a quiet funeral, an open casket in the throne room, the High King dead. Ginevra would cry over his corpse. Eilonwy would never know what happened. Peter willed away the thoughts as quickly as they came. Now was not the time.

                And then the sun began to paint the sky orange and Peter knew it was time to depart. He bid his siblings a fond farewell, hugging each of them tightly as Susan and Lucy whimpered against his chest. They knew it was wrong, that crying would only make things that much harder, but they genuinely feared for their brother’s life. It was as if their father was departing for the war all over again except this time they were on their own. No mother to look after them. Peter was the next best thing they had to an adult figure and now he was disappearing, too. Susan was terrified of taking on all the responsibility herself, not only for her family but for the country, as well. What would they do without their darling brother, the magnificent High King?

                He urged Besnik forward and then he and his men were off at once. He could still hear Susan and Lucy crying at the stables, Edmund wrapping his arms around them comfortingly as Peter and his men departed. He tightened his grip on Besnik’s mane and sucked in a shaky breath. He prayed for Aslan to watch over them, and to watch over his family in this difficult time, as well. He prayed for protection, for courage, for hope. He prayed that, no matter how horrifying a case this might be, that in the end, he would make it home alive.


End file.
